Kamen Rider Page
by Blackvvater
Summary: When a struggling writer stumbles across an ancient book, he finds himself drawn into a conflict from a thousand years ago. With the help of a medieval knight, he works to stop the monsters unleashed on an unsuspecting world and to correct the mistakes of an era long passed.
1. Session 1

**Kamen Rider Page**

 **Session 1**

The sound of metal clashing with metal rang out over a dreary grey moor, echoing off the reeds and the shallow pools of foul water. In the mists of the swamp, before a crumbling, ancient castle, a knight swung his blade at a gigantic, green orc chieftain, grazing the beast's belly with the very tip. The orc roared in pain, swinging his massive club in retaliation towards the knight, who threw up his shield to deflect the blow. The club collided with the warrior's shield, and the strength behind it sent the knight stumbling backwards, groaning in pain. As he knelt on the ground, the orc stood over him, chuckling as he raised his club once again.

Before he could smash his club down on the knight, however, the orc was struck in the face by a fireball, which exploded with the force of a grenade and sent the monster stumbling backwards, bellowing in pain. A female mage dressed in black robes held her staff before him, smirking at the orc, who furiously swiped at his singed skin, trying to reduce the pain. While the orc was still recovering, a slender girl wearing a black cloak jumped on the monster's back and drew her twin daggers across its throat. Black blood trickled down the orc's front, but incredibly, the monster remained standing. Scowling, the girl jumped off the monster's back, doing an elegant flip in the air before landing lightly on the soft peat.

The orc gazed back and forth, panting heavily as the damage began to take its toll. The knight picked himself up off the ground and once more dropped into a ready stance, holding his shield before him, his sword pointed behind it. With a scream, he charged the beast, thrusting his sword towards the orc's chest, the point aimed directly at its heart.

Unfortunately, the knight's strike missed as the orc shifted out of the way, and the knight over-extended himself as he rushed past the orc. A look of terror crossed his face as he looked up to see the orc raise its club again, bringing it down towards the knight's unprotected head. The club connected with his skull and-

"Wait, no, hang on," a disembodied voice echoed from the sky. The orc paused mid-strike, its club pressing lightly to the knight's cheek. Both combatants stared up at the sky in annoyance at the interruption, while the mage and the thief traded confused glances. "I forgot to add in my strength bonus. And doesn't the orc get a modifier for being wounded?"

"Eh… yeah, I'll allow that," another voice responded. "Alright, let's back that up a bit."

* * *

The knight and the orc took a few steps back, and the knight once more charged at the orc, yelling as he thrusted towards the beast's unprotected chest. The tip of his blade pierced the skin of the chieftain, who screamed in pain and rage, staggering backwards a few steps before collapsing heavily on the soft earth. From the battlements, a triumphant laugh could be heard, and the party turned to smile at the princess they had been sent to rescue. She beamed back at them, motioning for them to follow her up into the ruined keep.

"You meet the princess in the main hall of the ruined keep," explained the game master running the session of the roleplaying game. Seated around the long table were three others – a large, dark-skinned, balding man in his mid-forties, a pale young woman in her mid-twenties, and a scrawny boy of thirteen, who was impatiently jiggling his red twenty-sided die. "She tells you that she has been here for three days, and that the chieftain had tried to get the information about the third diamond out of her, but that she had refused to tell him. She now implores you to get her out of there, as she's starving and would like to return home immediately."

"Fine, let's get her out of here and get our reward then," the boy, Ryan, snapped impatiently.

"Wait, hang on," interrupted the older man, named Gary. "She said she's been here for three days, but she was captured a week ago?"

"The princess explains that they had to move her here, and that the journey took four days," the gamemaster replied simply.

"But it only took us two days to get here," Gary frowned.

"'It rained for two nights before, and the roads were muddy'," the gamemaster said in a high-pitched voice meant to represent the princess'. "Plus, you all were traveling by yourselves, and not in a caravan like the orcs were. It's much slower, traveling in a large group like that."

"And why aren't you chained in a dungeon somewhere?" asked Gwen, the young woman sitting opposite the gamemaster. "What, did the orc just get bored and let her out or something?"

"Look, who _cares_?" Ryan snapped. The others at the table paused, staring at him. He flinched and added in a softer voice, "You two are always picking at the smaller details, like you're asking the J.J. to throw more challenges at us. Stop giving him ideas!"

"No, please, keep giving me ideas," J.J. replied playfully, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. "In any case, she turns to your knight, Ryan, and sidles up to him, rubbing her ample body against your arm. 'Come now, Sir Lawrence!' she purrs. 'We can leave those two behind. The reward is all yours when we get back to the castle, if they don't want to take part in it. Then you can take me to your chambers, just like when we first met when you won that tournament two months ago!'"

"…But the tournament was three months ago," Ryan said skeptically, narrowing his eyes.

J.J. grinned. "The princess glances back and forth furtively, stammering, 'Of… of course! It's just that… we've been together so long, yet it feels like hardly any time has passed!'"

"Yeah, I'm not buying it. I draw my sword and point it at her," Ryan hissed. Behind him, Gary and Gwen traded smug looks.

"The princess' eyes widen, and then she sighs and mutters, 'Damn the girl, giving me fake information like that.' Before your eyes, she transforms into a half-draconic monster, who breathes a spurt of fire at you before flying off before you can react. As she hovers in the sky, she shrieks, 'And here I thought I could buy more time, maybe even get into the castle while your guards were down! But at least you still don't have any leads as to where the princess is!'"

"While she's gloating, I shoot a lightning bolt at her," Gwen said lazily.

"Roll it," J.J. shrugged.

Gwen rolled her own twenty-sided die across the table, frowning at the number on it. "I don't suppose a six is good enough?"

"Not at that height. The bolt misses her, and the monster cackles and flies off, leaving you without a lead."

"I'll start tracking her," Gary said. "My thief's detection skill should be good enough."

"Well, you're free to try next session. We should wrap it up here," J.J. said, glancing up at the clock. "I need to get to work here soon." He began scooping the dice into a bag, as the other players groaned.

"You still have time!" Ryan protested. J.J. paused, looking down at the freckled, brown-haired boy with a concerned expression.

"You okay?" J.J. asked. "You've been a bit moody today. Something bothering you?"

"Kids at school," Ryan muttered. "Getting tired of this gang of boys stalking me on the way home. I don't suppose you can come with me?"

"I can't fight your battles for you, Ryan," J.J. said, a look of regret on his face at not being able to do more to help. "And if I were to walk with you, even if they left you alone while I was with you – which is unlikely in the first place – they'd come after you when you're alone and ask you if you hired a bodyguard. It'd be one more thing they could throw in your face." Noticing the hurt expression on the boy's face, he added, "I've been there. It sucks being bullied, doesn't it?"

"Don't act all sympathetic," Ryan snapped. "If you're not going to help me, don't bother pretending to feel bad for me." With that, the boy grabbed his dice and his figure, shoved them in his backpack, and stormed out the door.

"Don't worry about him," Gary said, standing up and walking over to J.J., putting a large hand on the younger man's slender shoulder. "You were right about not being able to fight his battles for him, at least. About all you can do is support him. In the meantime, that was a better session than last time. Your writing is getting better."

"Yeah, it was a decently executed twist, if a bit cliché," Gwen said with a grin. "So you're telling us that our princess is in another cast-"

"Yes, yes, we all know the joke," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. Gwen smirked at him, brushing her platinum blond hair out of her piercing blue eyes. She had been wearing her hair short for the past few months, which J.J. personally found rather appealing. However, though he did find her attractive, he never made a move on her, as she hadn't indicated that she was interested in him that way, and he was content to banter with her as friends. "Too bad the publishers don't think my writing's improved."

"Still having problems getting them to buy your stories?" Gary asked.

"Yeah. I could self-publish again, but the last two barely sold any copies," J.J. scowled, pulling his long blond hair out of its ponytail before re-tying it in a nervous gesture. "While there's no guarantee that having a publisher promote my next book will ensure it'll do any better, I'd rather take that chance that have another outright flop. But they're not biting."

"What's the problem?" Gwen asked.

"They say that the worlds are good, but the main characters are bland and the plots are… cliché, like you said," J.J. sighed. "Everything that I've put forward has been done before, and better, by other authors, so they're afraid it won't sell. Fantasy is a genre that's had very little innovation recently, after all. Everyone is borrowing from the classics, with only slight tweaks. If you want fantasy these days, go play a video game."

"Well, you're still free to start working here again, rather than trying to live off of royalties," Gary offered. J.J. smiled, taking a moment to look around at Gary's tavern. He had opened it three years ago as a gaming bar, and since then, it had been quite successful. It was designed to resemble a medieval tavern, and Gary had spared no expense on appropriate décor. Towards the back of the place was the main bar, where an array of colorful bottles sat on four stacked shelves. Along the walls were medieval decorations such as tapestries, shields, swords, and faux animal heads. The tables were hand-made from strong oak, with bark clinging to parts of them to give them a more rustic feel. Drinks were usually served in pewter tankards or glass goblets, depending on the type of drink. The shelves standing against the walls held a variety of board and card games, including classics like chess and checkers, strategy war games, and tabletop roleplaying games.

All in all, it was one of J.J.'s favorite places in the city, and where he liked to spend much of his down time. While he had been writing his last book, he had worked as a waiter for Gary, and his friend had even been nice enough to lend him the back room to sleep in when he couldn't even afford his rent. His last book had been successful enough to allow J.J. to move into his own place, but the royalties barely covered that, and he knew that if he didn't have some success soon, he might have to move back into the tavern. He didn't want to impose on Gary's charity any more than he had to, though, so he shook his head.

"No… I'll just have to make sure this next book is better than the last one," J.J. said with a strained smile. "Plus, I have my job at the library now, remember?" He gave a wry grin. "I'll be honest, it's been fun, since now I have books right there for me to check out and read when I'm on break. It's been giving me ideas on how to tweak my best ideas, and what to avoid. I don't have to reinvent the wheel, after all. I just have to come up with something I can sell to an audience."

"Is there any way we can help?" Gary asked, walking around behind the bar as J.J. began to pick up his books and shove them into his own backpack.

"If you want to read what I'm writing, I'd appreciate feedback," J.J. replied.

"Criticism?" Gwen asked with a grin.

"Feed. Back," J.J. scowled, before giving her a good-natured grin. "And with that, I've gotta get going, or Ms. Thatcher will kill me. I'm off!"

The pair waved to him as J.J. headed out the door and made his way down the street, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his breath misting in the mid-winter air. The library was only a few blocks from the tavern, which was one of the other major reasons he frequented the tavern before work. To him, working at the library was almost a dream job Even as a kid, he had loved fairy tales and stories about knights and wizards fighting to protect others. He'd never had any inclination to emulate them, but he did enjoy them enough that in college, he had purposely gone after History and English degrees, in the hopes that it would better improve his writing abilities. Of course, he had been told that the degrees were a waste of time, and three years after graduating, he was beginning to think that those that had scoffed at him were right. However, he mused, he couldn't just go back in time and start over. And at least he wasn't starving now.

The library loomed over him, an ancient structure that had been built hundreds of years before. It was originally a cathedral, but had been repurposed as a library at the turn of the twentieth century. Apparently, it had been built by the founders of the small city, the Marks family, when they first moved to the country shortly after the American Revolution. They had supposedly been nobility, and had brought their vast fortune with them, using it to found the town of Marville, which over the years had grown into a minor metropolis. The cathedral, though, had been designated a historic landmark, and remained untouched even during all the urban development.

J.J. jogged up the thirty steps leading into the library and stepped inside, taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The interior of the building was lavishly decorated. Chandeliers hung over plush red carpets, and rows of oaken bookshelves lined the walls, filled top-to-bottom with books. In the center of the old cathedral, a few pews had been refitted with plush cushions to serve as reading benches, while at the front of the church, the pulpit had been cleared away and replaced by a small study area, with computers set up around the back walls. The stained glass of the cathedral had never been replaced, and the setting sun made brilliant colors glow on the floor through the western windows. J.J. took a moment to inhale the musty, wooden scent of the building before moving out of the doorway.

He flashed a smile at the plump, middle-aged librarian sitting behind the desk near the entrance, who nodded to him and pointed to a pile of books that needed to be sorted. Immediately, J.J. went to the pile and began pawing through them. One book caught his attention, a new release that was about a thieves guild. He held this up to Mrs. Thatcher, who shrugged.

"On your break, yes, you can read it. And remember, you're closing tonight."

Over the next two hours, he spent his time organizing the books and picking out selections for anyone who asked him for help. About halfway through his shift, he walked to a nearby deli, where he spent fifteen minutes quickly eating a small dinner of a sandwich, some fries, and a soda, then opened the book and began pawing through it. To his delight, he found it to be a mildly interesting read. The book centered around a young thief who arrived in a big city and mistakenly tried to pickpocket a member of the existing thieves guild. This was a major crime, but the guildmaster was impressed by her brazen behavior, and initiated her into the guild. What followed was an action-adventure tale about taking from the rich and protecting the poor from a corrupt city guard. While the story was well-told, J.J. gave up about halfway through as he realized that the book was nothing more than another copy of the old Robin Hood story.

Mrs. Thatcher noticed the disappointment on his face as he walked back in and tossed the book back onto the cart, softly laughing as he passed by her. "Well, the papers seemed to like it," she commented as he took the book back to its shelf.

"Of course they do. It hit all the notes that the critics wanted," J.J. sighed. "But in the end, it's the same story that we've been told a thousand times."

"You don't have any room to talk, Mr. Wells," the librarian pointed out. "What was the subject of your last book, a knight saving a princess? You don't get a story more overdone than that."

"And that's the problem!" J.J. protested. "How come my writing is too cliché to get published, but this gets a pass? Or worse yet, gets praised?"

"That's just the way the dice fall sometimes," she shrugged. "Anyways, back to work."

J.J. reluctantly went back to his job, though he continued stewing over the success of the book for the rest of the night. Around nine o'clock, Mrs. Thatcher approached him as he was pushing a cart towards the back of the library.

"Put that cart up, bring up the stack of books on the red cart in the basement and sort them, and then you can go home. And thanks for your work," she added with a smile. "I'll admit, I had reservations about hiring extra help, but you've been a good addition to this library. Remember, you're off tomorrow, so take some time to enjoy yourself. You look like you need it."

"Thanks," J.J. said, briefly returning her smile before heading into the basement of the cathedral. He turned on a light, and made his way around the additional books that rested in boxes and on spare carts. Quickly spotting the cart she had mentioned, he made his way over to it, but tripped over a loose book and stumbled forward into a wall near the north end of the church. He caught himself, smacking the wall hard with his hands. Letting out a groan of pain, he slowly pushed himself away from the wall. Under his fingers, he felt a loose brick. Frowning, he pulled his hand away and realized that the brick had a small shield design on it, something he had never noticed before. Curious, he pulled the brick, and found it slid out of the wall easily. He tried to peer into the hole it had left, but couldn't see into the darkness. Pulling out his phone, he flashed the light inside, wondering if a mouse had made its home in the hole. All he saw inside, however, was a thin book.

Reaching inside, J.J. pulled out the book and blew the dust off of it, frowning as he turned it over in his hands. The cover was unmarked and made of leather, which was in surprisingly good condition. He couldn't imagine how long the book had been down here, hidden behind the false brick, or for what purpose, but he was intrigued.

He turned the book over to the back cover, which was likewise blank. He noticed it was surprisingly heavy, almost as if it was made of lead, though the cover under his fingers was clearly leather. The pages were also very old, and didn't seem to be made of paper. Perhaps they were parchment? Cautiously, he cracked the book open to the middle. To his disappointment, the pages were blank. Flipping through the pages briefly to the end, he saw that nothing had been written in the book. Sighing, he flipped to the front page instead, wondering if this was just an unfinished book. On the first page, though, there was handwriting. The script was faded and ancient, and he was unable to decipher it. What he could understand, though, from the text, was that this book was originally written in English, and was a diary or journal of some sort. He flipped through several pages of illegible text, until he finally reached an entry where the handwriting changed. He was reminded of the stylized print used by newspapers to display the company. However, it was written in recognizable English, and he held up his phone to read it more clearly.

 _April 21, 1786_

 _This is the last vestige of the Knightly Order of the Shield, the last protectors of the Champion of Almencia. Upon completion of this cathedral, we laid the Champion to rest in this vault. While we have no proof of our suspicions, the Grandmaster fears that in this new, infant land that swears allegiance to no king, the powers that destroyed Almencia centuries ago may one day resurface here. Though we respect the wishes of the people to bow to no king, we still believe a protector is needed to shield them from follies of the past. Thus, we have chosen to respect the wishes of the Marks family, and to that end, we will record the events that led to the foundation of our order, and instructions on how to avert the disaster that is to come._

 _In the Year of Our Lord, 1019, the Kingdom of Almencia was home to a great king, who wished to grant his citizens the ability to pursue their dreams in any way they wished. To this end, he had his alchemist construct beings that could provide his citizens with the power to shape their own destinies. However, this power had unforeseen consequences, and the kingdom became embroiled in war. When all seemed lost, the King of Almencia summoned a champion to defeat the monsters that had been unleashed on the kingdom. The Champion was successful, and through his efforts, stripped the monsters of their power. However, the magic was only weakened, not broken, and the Alchemist who created these monsters swore that in one thousand years, his creations would rise again._

 _Thus, the Champion agreed to fall into a deep, enchanted slumber, and is to be re-awakened in one thousand years, the Year of Our Lord, 2019, to defeat the alchemist's creations once more. To any member of our order who finds this book, upon the start of the year 2019, follow the map provided and descend into the vault of this cathedral, awaken the Champion of Almencia, and bring salvation to humanity._

J.J. stared at the passage in disbelief. He had never heard of the Order of the Shield, and if it had ever even existed, he doubted anyone alive in Marville knew anything about it. Turning the page, he saw that the book indeed had a map of the cathedral's bottom level printed on it. Drawn on the map were arrows pointing out instructions to the reader on how to access an even lower level. J.J. hesitated, considering whether he should bother, but his curiosity got the better of him. He began following the instructions, first pushing in bricks indicated in the diary. Unlike the brick that the book had been hidden behind, these had no markings on them, and he quickly found that casually brushing against them wouldn't make them budge. He had to try to force them into the wall, until he heard a click. Furthermore, the diary indicated that they had to be pushed in a certain order, or the combination would reset itself. It was a rather effective password system, he mused, if one didn't know what they were looking for.

When he pushed in the last brick, he heard a loud metallic clanging sound, and he turned the diary to the next page, which indicated that he should pull down on a sconce that was still being used to hold an electric candle. He rolled his eyes, as this seemed like something out of a bad adventure movie, but pulled on the indicated sconce, then stepped back as the wall in front of him opened, revealing a passageway shrouded in darkness. Pulling out his phone, J.J. turned on the flashlight and began walking through the carved stone passageway.

While dust and earth coated the ground, there were no cobwebs, and no indication that animals had burrowed into the cave. The floor was dry, thankfully, and he progressed quickly down the corridor to a spiral staircase, which he followed down to another level, his curiosity mounting. At the bottom of the stairs, he found himself gazing at an enormous chamber, about half the size of the entire cathedral. The room was dimly lit by glowing white crystals hanging from the ceiling. Marble statues of knights in armor lined the walls, their blades lowered in deference towards the center of the room, where J.J. saw an enormous sarcophagus. He walked forward slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly on the marble floor, until he was standing beside the coffin. The lid had been carved in the image of a knight holding a massive shield without a device on it, which seemed odd to J.J. Usually a knight would have his own coat of arms, or would at least bear those of the lord he served. Was this some sort of knight-errant, or a black knight?

He put his hand on the sarcophagus, then jumped back, startled, as the lid began to open by itself. As he looked down, he saw a man in his mid-thirties, garbed in a blue tabard, lying in pristine condition behind a sheet of crystal. One thing that caught J.J.'s eye was the black leather belt the man wore around his middle, particularly the buckle, which was shaped like a golden shield with a smaller silver shield in the center. The man himself had curly black hair and a full beard, and his tan skin was worn and weathered, seeming almost leathery. Even asleep, he had an undeniably noble bearing and the kind of face that commanded respect.

J.J. once again opened the diary in the hopes that there was some sort of explanation about what he was supposed to do. The diary, however, offered no further clues. He figured that the only thing he could do at this point was touch the crystal pane, to see if that did something. In many fantasy books, after all, that was enough to cause something to happen. The one thing he was worried about, though, was that half the time when someone touched something with mystical origins, it ended badly for that person. Therefore, it was with a pounding heart and trembling fingers that he slowly reached out and touched the cool surface of the crystal.

Immediately, the clear rock began to crack like ice, splintering apart before shattering into thousands of fragments that disappeared into the air. J.J. leaned over the man as his eyes snapped open, and he sat up suddenly, looking around wildly, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. J.J. stepped back quickly, then realized that he was shining the flashlight into the man's eyes, and immediately turned it to the ground.

"Are you alright?" J.J. asked. The man narrowed his eyes at J.J., before speaking in a booming voice.

"Indeed, I am. Hail, young knight. Or perhaps squire? No matter. I trust that you are a member of the Order of the Shield, aye? Pray tell, what year is it?"

"It's… the Year of Our Lord, 2019," J.J. replied slowly, imitating the line that he'd read in the book. "You speak English?"  
"English? No, we are speaking Almencian," the knight replied, groaning as he rubbed the back of his neck. Before J.J. could protest, he continued, "So our foes have risen again? Tell me, young one, what news of the war with the enemies of Almencia?"

"There's no war," J.J. replied, frowning. "I mean, there's a few conflicts around the globe, sure, but by and large, the world is relatively peaceful. At least compared to past eras. I'm sorry, but can you tell me your name, sir?"

The knight seemed shocked, both by the news that there was no war, and his request for his name. "Have you not heard of me? The Champion of Almencia?" he asked, seeming a bit put-off. J.J. shook his head.

"This diary didn't mention-"

"Diary? Give me that," the knight said, reaching out and snatching the book out of J.J.'s hands. "Light," he added, and J.J. began to scowl as he held the cellphone over the man's shoulder. The knight began pawing through the pages, a look of sadness crossing his face.

"I see… so this is all that remains of Devon, is it? And it seems time has claimed his last words, rendering them unreadable. Truly, a pity," he sighed. Handing the book back to J.J., he replied, "Very well, since you profess ignorance, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Tristan Leon, the Champion of Almencia. And I would have your name as well, as well as your rank. Are you a knight? A squire, perhaps?"

"I… I suppose you could say I'm a page for the library, but-" J.J. began.

"A page? You are rather old for a page," Tristan scoffed. "But if a servant is what you are, a servant is what you are, and there is no shame in that, young man." The knight reached out and clapped J.J. on his shoulder. J.J. sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his rising annoyance. He was willing to believe that this man was a knight from a thousand years ago, since he supposed anything was possible, and he didn't really have any evidence to the contrary. After all, the diary had led him to a hidden catacomb underneath the cathedral. Who was to say the rest of it wasn't true? The knight's arrogant attitude, however, was already starting to grate on him, but he forced himself to consider why the knight was acting so pompously. If he really was from the Middle Ages, he was probably used to a strict hierarchical structure, and as such, he was behaving as he had been raised. There was no point in getting upset, if he fell into that mindset. Forcing a smile, J.J. turned to him.

"How are you feeling? If it's been a thousand years, I imagine you're not in the best of shape."

"Your concern is noted, and appreciated, page," Tristan replied. "If you are inquiring as to hunger and thirst, you have nothing to fear, for I sated myself before my long rest, and I shall not require sustenance for some time. However, I do require lodging."

J.J. quickly racked his brain before settling on Gary's tavern. He figured that it wouldn't be too out-of-place for him to ask for the spare room, as his friend had offered before. And the medieval setting wouldn't be too jarring for- "Actually, sir, would you mind waiting her for one minute?" J.J. asked, suddenly realizing something.

"I suppose, certainly. I shall familiarize myself with this room in the meantime. It seems… different from when I was interred," Tristan said, his voice lowering with worry.

J.J. nodded and turned, running up the stairs and climbing back into the main library. He found the lights were off, and guessed that Mrs. Thatcher had closed up for the night, assuming he went home. J.J. hurried over to the history section and quickly began grabbing books off the shelves. Taking a moment to check them into the computer, he set them on one of the pews before running back downstairs, to where Tristan was still waiting patiently, gazing at the statues in the dim light.

"Alright, I think I've got a place for you to stay for now," J.J. said quickly. "However, things have changed quite a bit in the past thousand years. I'll answer any questions you have once we get somewhere where you can stay, but for the moment, may I ask that you hold your questions? Trust me, it'll take me all night to answer them, and we'll never reach the tavern."

"I… suppose," Tristan frowned, folding his arms over his chest. "Though I do have one question. Where are we, precisely? This is not the castle of the King of Almencia, is it?"

"I'm… afraid not, no," J.J. said slowly. "Like I said, I'll explain the background of where we are, but suffice it to say, you're probably quite a ways from your homeland. I don't know why you were moved, but I think your sarcophagus was relocated for some reason. At least, that's what this diary said," he added, holding it up.

"I see…." Tristan replied, his shoulders slumping. "Well… as a knight, I go wherever my battles take me, and if I am needed here, then here is where I shall stay, for now. Perhaps one day I'll find my way back home," he said with a bleak smile. "Until then… please, lead on."

J.J. felt a pang of sympathy for Tristan. Everything he had known was long gone, and he'd awoken in a completely alien world. All things considered, the man was taking this rather well, though he hadn't truly experienced the full blow of culture shock yet. There was no way J.J. could prepare him for the modern world. At least he could try and answer any questions Tristan had, once they had a minute.

"Right," J.J. said, motioning for Tristan to follow him. He led the knight up the steps and into the basement, glancing over his shoulder to watch the man's reactions. When he saw the books, a look of awe crossed his face. "There are quite a few volumes here," he commented, reaching for one. His eyes widened as he saw the photograph on the cover. "And the portraits are… breathtaking. These must have been painted by the greatest hand of your age. Surely the order spent a fortune procuring them!"

"As I said, I'll explain when I have time," J.J. said, unable to suppress a smile. "Come on." He grabbed Tristan's wrist and led him out of the basement and into the cathedral. It was fortunate that the first thing Tristan saw was a relatively familiar sight, as he knew cathedrals of this sort were around in the eleventh century. J.J. quickly picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, before once more taking the knight's arm and leading him towards the door. J.J. noticed that while he was a head taller than the man, Tristan was far more solidly built. Of course, that was to be expected, considering the time period Tristan was supposedly from, as well as the fact that the man had pursued a martial profession his entire life, but feeling the corded arms beneath his fingers, J.J. couldn't help but marvel at the vast difference in strength between the two.

J.J. led him to the large double doors and pushed them open, bracing himself as he stepped through them with Tristan in tow. After a moment, he turned around and caught sight of exactly the expression he had expected – one of utter astonishment, wonder, and confusion. The hanging electric lights, the looming buildings, the cars on the street… he could practically see the wheels in Tristan's head grind to a halt as he struggled to process everything.

"What is-?" Tristan began, but J.J. cut him off with a quick gesture.

"Like I said, it'd take too long to explain. Just trust me, and hold your questions, please," J.J. insisted as he locked up the library with the key given to him by Mrs. Thatcher, before leading him down the road at a brisk walk. Tristan followed him with his mouth agape, trying to look around everywhere at once. For his part, Tristan was getting unusual looks due to his medieval clothing, but at least that could be shrugged off. It was strange, but not utterly beyond comprehension. Tristan was certainly getting the worst of it.

Ten minutes later, J.J. led him into Gary's tavern, which thankfully wasn't particularly busy that night, since it was only Thursday. Gary glanced up at J.J. and smiled as he walked in, but then frowned at Tristan.

"New friend of yours?" Gary asked hesitantly, looking Tristan up and down. "What's with the getup?"

"He's an ancient knight from a thousand years ago resurrected by magic to fulfill an ancient prophecy about some world-ending evil," J.J. replied with a completely deadpan look. When Gary stared at him, J.J. rolled his eyes and added, "He's a cosplayer, what do you think? I ran into him at the library. He's from overseas, and doesn't really have a place to stay. I was wondering if you'd mind setting him up in the back room for now?"

"I… suppose that's alright, sure," Gary replied slowly, eyeing J.J.'s companion warily. "What's your name?"

"Ah, forgive my rudeness, good tavernkeep," Tristan replied with a bow. "I am Sir Tristan Leon, of the Order of the Shield in the Kingdom of Almencia. You have my deepest gratitude for providing me with lodging this eve," he said with a charming smile.

"…He really gets into his role, doesn't he?" Gary asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Still not the weirdest guy that's walked through my door." J.J. noticed a couple of other patrons watching them, but with only mild interest. J.J. grinned to himself. If there was one place in the city where Tristan was the least likely to get judged, it was here. "Ah, what the hell, I'll set out the blankets," Gary shrugged "And what about you, J.J.?"  
"Mind if I stay the night as well?" he asked. "At least until Tristan here gets settled."

"Sure, though spend some time tomorrow looking to put him up in a hotel," Gary said with a frown. "I can't just accept people off the street that I don't know, even with you vouching for them."

"Of course. Thanks, Gary!" J.J. said, leading Tristan away from the bar and into the small back room. There wasn't much besides a small single bed with a pillow and some blankets, as well as a chair and a desk. J.J. flicked on the bare bulb and crawled under the bed, pulling out a spare cot for him to sleep on as well, which he set up against the opposite wall. He then motioned for Tristan to take a seat on the bed. The knight sank into the mattress gratefully, but then hesitated and bounced on the mattress for a moment, surprised by its springy softness.

"Tis like a cloud!" he exclaimed, laughing merrily.

"And that's one of the cheapest beds you can have. The expensive ones are even better," J.J. grinned, sitting at the desk. He pulled out his backpack and dumped the history books on the wooden surface. "Alright. I'll make you a deal. I'll do my best to answer any questions you have about the modern world, and I'll give you a very basic rundown of what's happened in the last thousand years. In exchange, I'd like you to take a little time and answer some questions I have as well. Deal?"

"You have my word," Tristan replied, and then immediately launched into a barrage of questions as J.J. opened the first history book. For the next several hours, J.J. coached Tristan through the basics of history, starting with the Middle Ages and going through to the modern era. There was quite a bit he had to gloss over, but he managed to explain the societal shifts from the Renaissance onwards, the importance of the Industrial Revolution, the cultural shifts of the twentieth century, and a bit of general information about the present day. Obviously, there was far too much for him to delve into, particularly regarding the technological advances of the past two centuries, but he hoped that he at least gave Tristan a very basic framework to provide some stability when approaching this new world.

It was around three in the morning when Tristan asked, "You said this country has no king?"

"I'm afraid not," J.J. replied, sipping on some coffee he had brewed. He was already feeling fatigued, but the idea of getting to teach someone from another era about the modern world had him giddy. "Is that so strange? There were societies in your time that lacked kings. And you must know how Rome operated without one."

"That is true, aye," Tristan said, scratching the back of his head. "I admit, I paid little attention to my tutors, as I was always more interested in my martial training. But I notice that you've not touched on Almencia."

"That's because I've never heard of it," J.J. replied, setting down his mug. "What can you tell me about it? Where was it located?"

"Almencia is – was, I suppose – an island nation, I believe somewhat southwest of England, to the east of France and north of Castile," Tristan replied. "When I was champion, we were ruled by King Pedro II, the wisest and kindest king we had ever known. We were set to enter a golden age."

"So what happened?" J.J. asked.

Tristan's far-off look grew sour. "Our liege desired to provide everyone with the ability to shape their own lives, to provide them with the means to re-imagine themselves as they saw fit. To that end, he asked our court alchemist, Quintus, to design something that would allow people to remake themselves. He created beings that could produce crystals which would allow people to change the very essence of who they were. The weak could make themselves stronger. The crippled could walk. The disfigured were healed. What Quintus produced was nothing short of a miracle.

"However, there were… unforeseen consequences. Those that were changed by the crystals were slowly warped into monsters, and tore the land apart. The king demanded that Quintus undo his mistake, but Quintus insisted that nothing could be done. Instead, he created weapons to combat the monsters he had created. I do believe he was seeking to make amends, and though others vilify him, I do not begrudge him for attempting to rectify his failure."

"What were the weapons?" J.J. asked.

"There were three. A mighty blade was forged and given to our strongest warrior. Another was a magical book, which would allow the reader to understand the monsters, to know what they were capable of. In fact, that's the book you found," Tristan said with a smile.

"The diary?" J.J. asked. "How does it-?"  
"I'm uncertain," Tristan said, waving off his question. "I was not its wielder, and not privy to its secrets. I, on the other hand, was gifted a magical shield and a suit of armor, allowing me to resist the onslaught of the monsters and protect those that could not defend themselves. This was stored in this belt that I wear," Tristan added with a hint of pride. "Would you care to see?"

"Of course!" J.J. said, setting down his cup to give Tristan his full attention. If there was anything that would dispel any lingering doubts about his story, this might be it. Tristan stood and walked to the center of the room, grinning as he pulled the shield off his belt. He shifted it so that it was fitted into a slot, then pushed it down. A metallic clank filled the room, and Tristan held out his arms, as if expecting to be garbed in armor. However, nothing happened. Tristan noticed this after a couple of seconds of posing as J.J. struggled to hold back a laugh.

"I don't understand!" Tristan cried, pulling the shield up and sliding it back down.

"Maybe it's broken," J.J. suggested. "Things do tend to stop working after a thousand years."

"It's an ancient artifact constructed by our greatest alchemist!" Tristan cried. "How could it be broken?! And how would it even be fixed?! Do you know of another alchemist?!" he asked, growing a bit hysterical.

"Hey, calm down," J.J. said soothingly, holding up his hand.

"You are blissfully unaware of the danger we are in, page!" Tristan snapped. "If I cannot use my armor, the monsters from my time will be allowed to ravage your countryside unchecked!"

"Okay, that's it," J.J. snapped. "My name is J.J. Please call me that, not 'page.' Second… let me take a look at that?"

"Oh, is one of your skills alchemy?!" Tristan scoffed, but he withdrew the shield and handed it to J.J. Like he suspected, it was heavy, and as he shook it, he could hear the unmistakable rattling of mechanical parts.

"Don't do that!" Tristan cried.

"What? It's not like it'll get more broken," J.J. retorted. "Now, listen. I don't know an alchemist, but I do know a mechanic – someone who can repair devices similar to this. I'll admit, he's never seen anything like this, but he's a genius, and he can get anything to work. I don't have work tomorrow, so why don't we take the day to go see him? If nothing else, it's better than just letting a broken device remain broken."

"You… speak with wisdom," Tristan admitted reluctantly after a few moments of considering his request, before sighing and sitting on the bed, resting his face in his hands. "It would be a travesty if I were to come to this time and find I was unable to uphold my sworn duty."

"Well, you may not have to anyways," J.J. said. "It's not like we've had monsters roaming around the streets. Maybe there's nothing to worry about."

"More likely the storm has yet to arrive," Tristan growled. "But I suppose that if we have a peaceful lull, we may as well take advantage of it. Very well. In the morning, we shall depart to meet this… mechanic you've suggested. For now, though… I must rest, and I am sure you are tired as well."

J.J. was about to deny this, but then a wave of fatigue washed over him that the coffee couldn't stave off. "Ah… yeah," he grinned sheepishly. "Alright, sure, let's get some sleep."

"And… thank you for your help, pa-… J.J.," Tristan added as he rolled over on the mattress.

"Don't mention it." J.J. was about to say that there was nothing to worry about, but he'd read enough literature to know that saying that out loud would jinx them, so he simply rolled over on the cot and fell asleep within seconds.

* * *

At around nine in the morning, there was a knocking on the door, and Gary called out, "Alright, come on, both of you need to get up!" J.J. groaned and rolled over, then sat bolt upright as a boom like a cannon going off resounded through the room.

"You're going to go back to sleep, J.J.!" Gary snapped, sounding for all the world like an annoyed father trying to get his kid up for school. "Get up!"

"Right, right, I'm up!" J.J. called out reluctantly, groaning as he sat up. Tristan did the same, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I was unaware of how exhausted I would be. I'm ashamed," he commented. "Time once was I could go two days and nights without feeling fatigue."

"A thousand years of sleep can drain the body more than you expected, I suppose," J.J. yawned. "C'mon. Let's get some food and then we'll go see Susumu."

The pair made their way out to the bar, where Gary was generously finishing cooking for them. J.J. immediately reached into his jeans and pulled out his wallet, but Gary responded by smacking him upside the head.

"You know better than to pay me for something like this," he said with a snarl, nudging J.J. to take a seat as he set down a plate of eggs and hash browns, before doing the same for Tristan, who bowed gratefully. Gary glanced at Tristan and added, "I have some clothes that should fit you, if you didn't bring any with you. I didn't see a bag on you."

"Your generosity is deeply appreciated, tavernkeep," Tristan said gratefully, before taking a bit of the food. His eyes widened, and he added, "Matched only by your culinary skill. Though I am surprised you did not have a maid to do this for you. Why-"

"He doesn't have the money to hire extra help," J.J. interjected quickly, trying to head off that conversation. "And yeah, Gary's right, you should let him lend you some clothes. You might be attached to your tabard, but wearing modern clothing will let you blend in a bit more easily."

"But if I do not display my heritage-" Tristan protested.

"And if you stand out, it'll make it that much harder for you to track whatever monsters you're hunting," J.J. added.

"Ah. There is wisdom in what you say, young page," Tristan agreed. J.J. grit his teeth. "Very well, I shall impose upon your charity once more, good sir," he said with another bow to Gary.

"You're really committed to that role, huh?" Gary asked. Before Tristan could reply, shouting outside caught their attention. Gary frowned, walking over to the window, and then his eyes widened. "What is that kid… J.J., come over here and look at this!"

J.J. set down his fork and walked over to the window, peering through it. He frowned as he saw a quartet of boys running down the street, yelling as they were pursued by another figure. As the figure came into view, he realized that it was Ryan, running after them and pelting them with rocks the size of softballs.

"What in the… okay, we need to put a stop to that," J.J. said, moving to step outside, but Gary grabbed his arm and shook his head.

"You're the one who told him to stand up for himself," he pointed out.

"No, I told him I couldn't fight his battles for him. I never said he should start throwing… come to think of it, aren't those rocks rather large?" he added. "Did Ryan ever have a good throwing arm?"

"Now that you mention it, no. He's skinnier than you are," Gary agreed, a look of confusion mixed with worry on his face.

"I'm gonna go talk to him. _Just_ talk to him," J.J. added, noting the scowl on Gary's face. He walked outside as Ryan finished chasing the boys around the corner.

"I'll end you if you ever come after me again!" Ryan screamed after them, before turning to see J.J. walking towards him. "And what do _you_ want?" the boy growled.

"Just to see what's going on. Relax, Ryan," J.J. said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Were those the boys that were bothering you?"

"Yeah. And they learned that if they push too hard, I might eventually push back," he said with a bloodthirsty smirk.

"I… guess that's one way to handle it," J.J. said slowly. "What, did you start playing baseball or something? Where'd you learn to throw rocks that heavy?"

"I don't have to tell you," Ryan snapped. J.J. narrowed his eyes.

"No, you don't, but you also don't have to give me an attitude," J.J. replied, narrowing his eyes.

"Whatever," Ryan said, bumping past J.J. As he did, J.J. felt as though he'd been pushed aside by a linebacker. He stumbled backwards about ten feet before catching himself on the wall, staring at Ryan. The smaller boy smirked at him over his shoulder before continuing on his way.

"That was… weird," J.J. commented, walking back inside. Gary looked at him curiously, while he saw Tristan staring intently from his seat. "Ryan managed to chase off his bullies, which is… good, I suppose? But he's copping an attitude with me, and I don't recall him being able to knock me off-balance like that just walking past me."

"Hm," Tristan commented from his seat, his expression growing serious. "This bears investigating. It may be one of the first signs of-"

"What? No, we've got to get that trinket of yours looked at first," J.J. said, brushing off Tristan's concerns. "And I need to finish eating. Gary, mind lending him some clothes while I clean up here?"

Gary led Tristan to his own room while J.J. cleaned his plate, and when the knight reappeared, he was dressed in modern clothing – jeans, a button-down shirt, and a medium-weight blue jacket.

"These garments are quite comfortable," Tristan commented, sounding surprised.

"Glad you like them. Come on, Susumu's place isn't far," J.J. said. "Thanks again, Gary!"

"Like I said, make getting him a hotel room one of your errands, J.J.!" Gary called out after him. J.J. tossed a wave of acknowledgement over his shoulder before walking down the street with Tristan in tow.

Susumu's garage was about five blocks from the tavern, and along the way, J.J. entertained Tristan's questions about modern society and technology as they walked. He couldn't answer technical questions, but he could give vague replies. Like the night before, J.J. found himself enjoying educating the knight, so much so that the trip to Susumu's shop seemed to take half the time it normally did. When they arrived, J.J. grinned as he saw the mechanic's garage was open, and the man was busy at his workbench, tinkering with some engine part.

As the two approached, the mechanic seemed to sense their presence and turned to face them. Susumu Takumi had moved to the Marville over half a year ago, and in that time, he had made an immediate impact as a mechanical genius. He had a reputation for being able to fix almost anything, which J.J. had discovered the first time he had brought Susumu a laptop he was certain had been destroyed. Recognizing J.J., a bright grin spread over his features, and he brushed his fingers through his spiked black hair before grabbing his cane. Though he was only in his late twenties, he had always walked with a limp, though J.J. had never pried about the nature of his injury. He slowly made his way over to the pair approaching him, extending his hand out to J.J., who beamed as he took it. Something about the man's friendly attitude had always been infectious.

"Been a while, J.J.," Susumu said by way of greeting, stepping back and straightening up. "I take it you haven't had any problems with that computer?"

"Works better than ever, thanks. Though I've got a slightly different problem this time around. Susumu, this is Tristan, a newcomer to the town. He has a device that I was hoping you could take a look at, since I can't make heads or tails of it."

"That right?" Susumu said, extending his hand out to Tristan, who stared at the man curiously for a moment before realizing that he was expected to repeat the gesture J.J. had demonstrated. Tristan shook his hand, then nodded and slowly pulled the shield from his belt.

"J.J. has said that you are an alchemist of some renown. Pray, would you know how to repair this?"

"An alchemist?" Susumu laughed, taking the belt buckle with his free hand. "That's a new one. So, what am I looking at, exactly?"

"That is a construct devised by the great alchemist Quintus of Almencia. Its purpose is to garb the wielder in armor, yet it seems to function no longer."

Susumu's grin dropped, and he raised an eyebrow at J.J., who shrugged.

"Don't look at me, I just met him yesterday. I couldn't tell you what it's supposed to do."

"I guess you couldn't, no," Susumu agreed. "Alright, sure, let's see what we've got. I'm no alchemist, but maybe I can figure it out. Do you mind if I take this apart, see what I can find?"

Tristan looked hesitant, but reluctantly replied, "You… may proceed as you see fit."

Susumu nodded. "I'll be gentle with it, don't worry." He limped back over to his desk and sat down, opening his toolbox. For the next hour, J.J. loitered around, watching Susumu's small TV, while Tristan hovered nervously as Susumu dissected the shield. From time to time, J.J. glanced over, noticing that the interior was indeed mechanical, but of a clockwork nature, almost like something pulled out of a steampunk novel. He also saw Susumu occasionally pull out a crystal an examine it curiously. Finally, he reassembled the device exactly as he found it, and handed it back to Tristan with a shake of his head.

"Remarkable. I've never seen anything close to that sort of technology," Susumu said in a reverent tone. "To my untrained eye, though, everything looks like should work. The only thing I can suggest is maybe it needs a new power source."

"What, like a battery?" J.J. asked, swinging around on the stool he was sitting on.

"Exactly. But I'm not even sure what sort of power source a device like that would take. Where did you get that?"

"It was-" J.J. began, but Susumu pinned him with a look.

"The truth, please," Susumu added. "I remember you trying to tell me you'd just dropped the laptop when you brought it in, and I didn't buy that either. You have a smooth tongue, J.J., but you're not going to explain your way around this one. So fess up, what actually happened?"

J.J. opened his mouth, then closed it. He shrugged, pre-empting himself by saying, "You're not going to believe me." He then explained everything that had happened up to that point, from finding the book in the library to discovering Tristan in the bottom levels of the cathedral. Susumu listened quietly while Tristan hovered behind him, standing with his hands behind his back. When J.J. finished his story, Susumu nodded.

"Okay then," he replied nonchalantly. J.J. raised an eyebrow.

"What, just like that? You just accept it?" he asked skeptically.

"Why not? You seem to be accepting it," Susumu pointed out. "Why are you taking all this information in stride?"

"Because it's hard to refute evidence before your eyes. But you haven't had the same experiences I have. You're just taking this at face value."

"Sometimes you need to do that. Not to mention that I have evidence as well," Susumu replied, holding up Tristan's belt buckle. "This is technology unlike anything that I've ever seen before. It'd take me weeks to understand how it works, and I've spent my entire life studying engineering. Therefore, I'm willing to accept an outlandish explanation. If you'd said Tristan here is an alien and this is extraterrestrial technology, I'd be willing to consider that explanation as well.

"You're… a weird one, Susumu," J.J. said slowly. Susumu grinned at him.

"Tristan, you mentioned that the book is another artifact from your kingdom, right?" Susumu asked.

"It is, yes," Tristan replied. "It was meant to provide another with abilities similar to my own. However, it was meant more for observation than combat."

"Was it also made by your alchemist?" Susumu asked. "If so, I'd like to take a look at it."

"Certainly," Tristan said. He nodded to J.J., who handed over the book. Tristan gently picked at the leather on the cover, pulling it back to reveal a spiderweb of metal wires and crystal, which explained the weight, J.J. mused. As he peeled back the cover, a metal quill fell out of the spine, clattering onto the table. Susumu watched as J.J. picked it up, twirling it in his fingers. In the meantime, Susumu took his time examining the inner workings of the book before shaking his head.

"Same problem as the shield," he said. "Seems to have had all its power drained. Tristan, do you know what used to power these items?"

"I do not, no," Tristan replied. "They simply worked, and if they sustained damage, we simply gave the to Quintus to fix."

"That's a shame," Susumu sighed, replacing the leather cover. "In that case, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."

"That is not acceptable," Tristan frowned. "I must be able to fight."

"Sorry, but without a new power source, your trinket isn't going to work. A modern battery is incompatible, and I don't want to risk damaging something that I don't fully understand," Susumu said.

J.J. had been half-listening, watching the TV instead, as a news report had come on. "Hey guys?" he said, his eyes widening at the screen. "You may want to take a look at this."

Tristan and Susumu stepped forward, Tristan's eyes widening. "What strange picture-box-"

"It's a television. I explained it to you last night, remember?" J.J. said. "Anyways, that's not important right now. Look at this."

The news report was describing an incident in downtown Marville, where something was causing damage to a school. The reporter on scene was trying to explain what was going on.

"-crashing sound was heard by concerned neighbors who lived in the area. Officials were worried about a potential bomb threat," the man was saying. "However, when they arrived on the scene, what they found was what could only be described as an escaped animal of some sort, potentially a gorilla or a bear. We've just-"

The report was cut off as a roar filled the air, and the reporter turned around to see a massive green creature with a pig-like face yelling and throwing a tree towards a group of kids, who scampered off, screaming in fear. J.J.'s eyes widened in shock at the creature.

"That's impossible," he whispered. "Is that an… orc?!"

"That's… that's one of the creatures that attacked Almencia!" Tristan cried. "I must go there and stop it!"

"You already said that you can't fight it without your armor, right?" Susumu pointed out. "So, let's do this. You and I will stay here, and we'll see if we can get this working. Give me enough time to study this, and maybe I can work something out. Some of this doesn't look that different from modern computer chips, truth be told. In the meantime, J.J., will you head over to the school?"

"…What?" J.J. asked as two pairs of eyes turned on him. He took a step back, holding up his hands. "You… you expect me to fight that thing?!"

"Of course not, no," Susumu said in a reassuring voice. "But we should have someone who has a basic idea of what's going on observing and taking notes, just so we know what we're up against."

"Aye. And you have Devon's book," Tristan added. "The book was made for that very purpose. Whilst I fought, Devon would observe and record the monsters I fought, to better understand our foes."

"But you both said the book doesn't work!" J.J. protested. "So what am I going to do, go over there and take pictures of it on my phone?!"

"J.J., listen to me," Susumu said, pinning him under his gaze as he put his hand on J.J.'s shoulder. "You're the only one who can do this. I need to stay here and work on Tristan's belt, and Tristan has no idea how to operate in the modern world. You know where the school is, and you're one of three people right now with even a vague idea about what that orc is doing here, if it's one of Tristan's monsters. I'm not asking you to fight it. Stay as far out of danger as you can. But please, observe it, take notes about what it's doing, and come back here. That's all I'm asking you to do, so that when Tristan can fight again, he knows exactly what we're up against. Is that an unreasonable request?"

"Yes!" J.J. protested. "You expect me to put my life on the line for this?!"

"Would you let others die for your cowardice?" Tristan asked coldly. J.J. stared at him, then slowly, reluctantly, sighed and pulled out his phone, pulling up his GPS.

"The school's about a mile and a half from here," he said, his heart hammering in his chest at the thought of what he was about to do. "It'll take me a while to get there."

"Not necessarily," Susumu said, pushing himself up and grabbing his cane. "I have something that can get you there faster."

Susumu led the other two men to the back of his garage, where he approached an object covered in a green vehicle tarp. He removed the tarp, and J.J. gaped at the machine he revealed. Leaning on its kickstand was a beautiful new motorcycle. The bike had a sleek copper frame built in the shape of a galloping horse, under which was the chrome of the machinery required to make it work. The front of the bike was stylized with a polished copper horse head, snorting and baring its teeth.

"This is something I've been playing with in my free time," Susumu explained with a grin. "I call her the Bay-cycle. See, it's like the coat color, and it's-"

"A pun on bicycle, yes, very clever," J.J. sighed, glowering at Susumu, who grinned at him unrepentantly. "Is she fast?"

"Fast and agile, yep. I showed you how to ride a motorcycle a few months ago, right? Still feel confident enough to take her for a ride?" he asked, handing J.J. a brown leather jacket to wear.

"More or less," J.J. said, pulling on the jacket before climbing onto the seat and grabbing the brown helmet hanging off the handlebars. "Just take a few notes on the orc and come back, right?" he added. "Anything in particular you want me to mark down?"

"Anything you notice about its strength, speed, and special characteristics would be greatly appreciated," Tristan said, walking over to J.J. and holding out the leather book to him. J.J. slid it into his front pocket as he started up the motorcycle. "And thank you for your assistance, page. You are indeed brave."

"I'm really not," J.J. said over the engine starting up. "But like you said, I'm one of the few people who has any idea what's going on. So I'll take the notes and come back as soon as I'm done. Don't expect me to help beyond that," he warned them.

"That's more than enough. Now get going!" Susumu said.

Shaking his head, J.J. revved up the engine, and drove out of the garage and onto the main street. His phone was positioned in a slot between the handlebars, serving as a GPS for him as he sped down the street. Fortunately, there was little traffic, and he was able to make it through every green light. He found himself enjoying the ride, especially since it kept him from thinking too hard about what he was about to do. Over the past two days, his life had turned into a fantasy novel. Between coming to terms with the fact that magic existed, that fact that he was acquaintances with a knight from a thousand years ago from a kingdom he'd never heard of, and that now orcs were attacking his hometown? What else was going to challenge his worldview, he wondered. And more importantly, if everything Tristan said was true, how much danger were they all in? That last question caused a pit to form in his stomach. In every story, there were heroes with abilities on par with or exceeding the monsters they fought. Tristan claimed he had fought monsters before, but if he couldn't now, where did that leave them?

That thought lingered in J.J.'s mind as he pulled into the parking lot of the middle school. Already, he could see teachers herding the students away from the back of the building. He parked the bike and pulled off his helmet, trying to flag down one of the teachers, who gave him a wild-eyed look of panic.

"Get out of here! Run!" she shrieked. "It's coming!"

"Wait, wait, what's going on?" J.J. asked as calmly as he could.

"This… thing is destroying the school!" she shouted. "It's been attacking everything in sight!"

"Has anyone been hurt?" he asked.

"Thankfully, not yet, but we need to get out of here! Let the police deal with this!" she said, continuing to direct the crowd of students away from the school.

 _If only Susumu and Tristan thought the same,_ J.J. thought as he stepped away from his bike and began wading through the crowd of students, against their flow, towards the back of the school. As he did, he pulled out the book and an ink pen he always carried with him, in case he had a thought for his book while he was out.

As he rounded the corner of the building, he saw the orc standing on one of the basketball courts, roaring in rage as it tore down a fence like it was made of bubble wrap. J.J. huddled near one corner of the school and opened the diary to a blank page, before turning his attention to the beast. It stood over eight feet tall, and was covered in thick green skin, under which bulging muscles rippled as it continued to tear apart the fence. Shaggy black hair trailed from its head down its back, while a pair of tusks protruded from its lower lip. Its nose reminded J.J. of a pig, while its eyes were a burning, bright yellow. The only cloth the orc wore was a rough loincloth made of some sort of khaki leather, covering its lower body.

J.J. watched as it finished tearing apart the fence, then grabbed one of the basketball hoops and grunted as it tried to lift it out of the ground. His jaw slowly fell open as the pole was ripped from the concrete, and the beast began to bend it like taffy. His fingers fumbled as he quickly scribbled down this note in the diary. Its strength was undeniable, and he was willing to bet that its hide was extremely thick as well, since orcs were known for their endurance. Susumu had asked him to look for weaknesses, but he was unwilling to put down that the orc was slow. As large and as muscular as it was, combined with its unnaturally long arms, J.J. was willing to bet that it could probably run like a gorilla, charging at speeds a human couldn't outrun, which he also put down. But then… how was Tristan supposed to fight this thing, he wondered.

The orc threw the pole towards the treeline behind the courts, and a scream pierced the air. J.J. stared in horror, following the orc's gaze as it slowly turned towards the woods. A girl was hiding behind a tree, and the twisted metal pole had landed five feet from her. J.J. looked back at the orc and saw its mouth curl into a savage sneer. It began lumbering towards the girl, menacingly approaching her like a bear stalking its prey. J.J. glanced between the two, his heart racing, as he considered what to do. Finally, realizing that the only way to save the girl was to do something both very brave and very stupid, he stepped out from behind the school.

"Run!" he shouted to the girl, before whistling sharply to distract the orc. The lumbering monster turned towards him as the girl watched him intently. Glancing over at her, he yelled, "Get moving, now!" He then knelt down, grabbing a rock, and he threw it at the orc, which bounced off of its shoulder. "Come on, then! Come after some real prey!"

The orc briefly considered him, then turned back to the girl and resumed walking towards her. The girl refused to move, and J.J. swore under his breath. Turning, he sprinted towards the girl, outrunning the orc's almost casual pace, and he grabbed her arm. "Come on, we have to run!" he yelled at her, pulling her. The girl gripped the tree with her other arm, but her grip slowly loosened as J.J. pried her away from it. The orc, however, was nearly upon them, and J.J. felt his heart catch in his throat as it loomed over them. Finally, the girl took off, just as the orc reared back its arm. J.J. sprang forward, jumping up and grabbing the orc's arm, distracting it long enough for the girl to run behind it and out of danger. However, the force of the swing caught J.J., and threw him into the air. Because he had caught the orc's arm before the blow, he was only pushed, but he flew forty feet through the air into the woods, landing against a tree with a dull thud. He felt something crack, and the wind was knocked out of him, before he fell face-down onto the ground, unable to move.

Slowly, he raised his head, his vision swimming as he saw the orc watch the girl run off, but apparently the beast had lost interest in her, and it slowly walked back to the basketball courts, apparently intent on continuing to destroy them. Then he saw a bright light in front of him.

 _So, this is how I die,_ he thought bitterly. _Just take notes, don't get involved. Once they join up with me in the afterlife again, I'm gonna kill Tristan and Susumu._

However, as he watched, the light coalesced into a figure. The being before him was garbed in flowing white robes, and six feathery wings were attached to its back. Its face was obscured by a silver mask. _Angel_ , J.J. thought, as the figure floated towards him, and the light dissipated. It then knelt down in front of him, and a melodious laugh filled the air.

"I thought that I had sensed my brother's handiwork," came an echoing feminine voice. "But I did not expect to see an artifact of Almencia here as well. You bear an ancient heirloom, yet you are not of Almencian blood. This is curious. Perhaps you're a neutral party in what is to come, a wild card if you will. This could be interesting."

"Who… are you?" J.J. gasped, then coughed. Pain shot through his body, and he could hear how wet the cough was.

"Who I am is not important," the figure replied. "What matters now is what you choose to do. If you stay like this, you will die. I can offer you a second chance at life, and the power to defeat that orc. I have no love of my brother's pets, after all, and you may yet prove useful. What I must ask of you though, is this: If you had one thing about yourself you would change, what would it be?"

"What?" J.J. asked. "That's not… what does that matter?"

"Answer the question," the being insisted.

J.J. considered the question, fighting off the pain shooting through his body, before he managed a wry chuckle. "Aside from not being in so much pain? Nothing. I like who I am. More importantly, is that girl alright?"

The angel stared at him for a long time, before shaking their head. "Unusual. Few respond that way, and fewer think of others before themselves like that. You are more intriguing than I first suspected. Very well." Reaching out, the figure put their hands on his back, and J.J. gasped as he seemed to feel her hands phase through his body, though there was little pain; it was as though she was reaching through him, like he was made of air. When she pulled her hands back, the pain was gone, and she was holding a small piece of parchment and what looked like a translucent brown twenty-sided die, both of which she handed to him.

"Put this page in that book and push the crystal into the slot on the front cover," she told him.

"What slot?" J.J. asked, picking up the book. As he turned it over, he saw a slot had appeared in the center of the front cover, perfectly carved out to fit the crystal. Looking back up at the angel, he asked, "What is this?"

"That is how you will defeat my brother's creation. You seem bright; you will learn how to use this gift swiftly, I imagine. But a warning: Never forget why you wished for this gift in the first place. Good luck," she said cryptically, and before he could ask more questions, she turned and disappeared in another flash of light.

J.J. stared after her, then looked down at everything in his hands. He hesitated for several moments, completely unsure how to proceed in the wake of what had just happened, his mind racing. What had she done?

Before he could question anything further, the orc roared again, interrupting his thoughts. Looking up, he saw the orc was staring at him, watching him warily, as though disbelieving that he had gotten back up. A low growl erupted from its throat, and it began lumbering towards him again, clearly intent on crushing him for good this time. J.J. swallowed. The angel had told him that he had the power to beat the orc now, if he followed her instructions. With nothing to lose, he may as well try it.

He re-opened the diary to the page after his notes and slid the paper she had given him inside. To his amazement, the page attached itself to the bindings, as if by magic. He then turned the crystal over in his hand, putting it in the new slot on the front cover, and pushing down until he heard it click. When it did, he felt something tighten around his waist, and he looked down to see that a brown leather belt with a large steel buckle had wrapped around his waist. Looking down, he saw that the belt buckle was hollow. From his perspective, he saw that the "front" of the buckle was a thin sheet of metal, while behind that was a much thicker sheet that rested against his stomach.

He turned the book over in his hands for a moment before sliding it into the slot, with the front cover hanging out over the front of the buckle while the remainder slid into the back. He once more heard a click as it was fitted in place, but still nothing happened. The orc let out another roar and began charging towards him. In a panic, J.J. swatted at the front of the belt buckle, smacking it like TV to get it to work, and he felt the crystal on the front of the buckle push in like a button. Just as the orc was about to strike him, he was surrounded by a translucent amber crystal formation that seemed holographic. It began spinning rapidly, and as the orc brought its fist down, it bounced off of the crystal-shaped light and was thrown backwards, landing hard on its back. As it did, he heard a booming voice shout, **"Adventure, begin!"** This was immediately followed by the sound of a trumpet playing. J.J. then realized his body was paralyzed, trapped in the winds spinning around him.

J.J. closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he found that the spinning light had stopped, and he was able to move again. However, his body felt heavier, like he had put on an extra set of heavy clothing, and he had slight tunnel vision. Looking down, he gasped as he realized that he was wearing a completely new outfit.

His torso was covered in a brown leather jerkin inlaid with a diamond pattern, similar padded leather armor, complete with four bronze clasps running down the center of his chest and stomach. His arms were covered in the same brown material, but they lacked the diamond pattern of the jerkin, instead being completely smooth. His hands were protected by black gloves, and as he flexed his fingers, he noted that the material felt different from regular leather. Rapping his knuckles on the jerkin, he realized that while the material of both the jerkin and the gloves looked like leather, it was far tougher, yet more flexible.

The jerkin extended a bit past his waist, under which he wore black pants made of the same material as the gloves. Calf-high brown riding boots completed the ensemble. Around his waist and over the jerkin, he still wore the belt, the book resting in the central slot with the crystal adorning the center like a jewel. At his left hip was a clip, which held the pommel of a short sword about thirty inches long. The blade was unusual, as it was shaped like a quill, giving the cutting edge a slight, elegant curve like a saber, which tapered to a sharp point, allowing it to be used for either thrusting or cutting. The hilt was smooth, and the base formed a sharp diamond-shaped pommel that reminded J.J. of a fountain pen.

J.J. slowly drew the sword, turning it over in his hand gently as the orc grunted and slowly began to pick himself up from the ground. Looking down at the beast, J.J. suddenly stepped forward and pointed the blade at the orc's throat. The orc stopped moving, looking up at him with burning yellow eyes.

"I don't want to have to hurt you," J.J. said slowly. "But I can't have you destroying parts of this city. I'm going to ask you once: Will you stop rampaging?"

The orc responded by roaring and swinging at J.J., who jumped backwards. To his surprise, he found himself flying through the air. He landed lightly on the grass fifteen feet behind him, and he paused to look down at himself in shock. He'd just meant to dodge, not to fling himself back like that. A roar caught his attention, and before he could react, the orc was charging at him. The beast's fist caught him square in the stomach, and he let out a grunt as the wind was knocked out of him and he was sent flying again. He tumbled onto the grass, rolling a few times before coming to a stop. He coughed and slowly picked himself up, but was surprised to find that other than having the wind knocked out of him, he was more or less okay. Taking a deep breath, he stood and gripped his sword a bit more tightly.

As the orc charged at him again, he realized that its movements seemed slower than before. When the orc swung at him again, he ducked, and the orc's blow missed him entirely. With the orc's belly exposed to him, he stepped forward and slashed horizontally with his sword. The blade bit into the orc's hide, leaving a shallow gash. The orc roared and once again punched at J.J., this time with an uppercut that he was unable to dodge. It caught him in the ribs, but again the armor cushioned the blow. He flew through the air and landed heavily on his feet, but was able to keep his balance.

Exhaling again, he gripped the sword and ran forward towards the orc, surprising the beast with his sudden attack. The orc jabbed at him, but J.J. leaned to the left, and as he did, he slashed downwards with the sword, leaving another shallow gash in the orc's arm. This time, though, as the orc tried a follow-up blow, he stepped back, avoiding the hard right hook. The force of the orc's attack once again sent it into a spin, and J.J. realized that it was overestimating the force it would need to attack him. It was like a kid fighting on the playground, using nothing but strength with no control. Keep calm, he told himself, and patiently wear it down. Let it tire itself out.

The orc began punching wildly at him, swinging desperately, but J.J. kept dancing out of its range, watching it intently as the orc began to wear itself down. When it swung with a haymaker, he dodged the blow, stepped in, and cut its arm again, before jumping back. By this time, the orc was panting, exhausted, while J.J. felt like he was getting the hang of his enhanced strength and reflexes.

J.J. shifted his stance, trying to emulate fencers he had watched on TV, holding the sword out in front of him and angling his body so that as little of it was exposed as possible. The orc seemed startled by this sudden posture, and as he began to approach the orc, it suddenly turned and began running from him. J.J. was surprised by this sudden retreat, but then horror gripped him as he realized the orc was running towards the crowd of people. However, before he could react, glowing red lines began spreading across the orc's green body, expanding like fracturing glass, until the orc's form disappeared in a flash of bright red light. J.J. shielded his eyes, and as he lowered his hand, he saw that the orc was gone, and _Ryan_ was running away from him. J.J. held out his hand, and was about to call out to the boy, but the kid managed to scamper around the side of the building, disappearing into the crowd of children. J.J. lowered his hand, realizing that he couldn't exactly dive into the crowd after Ryan, and had to let him go for now.

J.J. slowly clipped his sword to his belt again, then jogged to one of the unbroken windows of the school to get a look at himself. When he did, he was amazed by what he saw. Aside from his armor, he saw that he was also wearing a brown helmet, the front of which opened to a black shield-shaped faceplate, making him look like he was wearing a leather coif. On this face plate were two vertical amber rhombuses joined back-to-back to create a shape reminiscent of an open book. The rhombuses were bisected vertically by a gleaming silver sword with a triangle-shaped crossguard and a smaller triangle-shaped pommel. All in all, he looked vaguely like a medieval squire or adventurer dressed in leather armor. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the same armor that Tristan had mentioned wearing a thousand years ago.

Still reeling, he looked himself over, trying to figure out how to remove the armor. He was struck with an idea when his eyes fell on the book resting in the belt buckle. He pushed down on the crystal again, and it popped out into his hand, while the armor disappeared in a flash of light, as did the belt. J.J. caught the book as it dropped and slid it into his front pocket, along with the crystal. As he did, people began to come around the side of the building to where he was. The teacher that he had seen before stared at him, her eyes lighting up in recognition.

"You! You're that guy from earlier!" she exclaimed. "What happened? Where's that monster? Did you beat it?!"

"Yeah, I just fought off something that was tearing apart concrete with its bare hands. Walked up and punched it right in the face," J.J. replied sarcastically, his stomach dropping as he realized how easy it was to lie to her. "No, that thing got bored and ran off into the woods when it got done with the basketball course. I dunno where it went."

"Oh. Are you… alright?" she asked, approaching his cautiously.

"I'm fine. It basically ignored me. But if you don't mind, I need to head out," he said.

"Ah, but the police…!"

"Aren't going to want to interview some random guy who doesn't even have a kid at this school," J.J. pointed out. Before she could protest, he was already walking to the parking lot and made his way over to the motorcycle.

As he climbed astride it, he saw Ryan watching him from the crowd. J.J. hesitated, considering going after him, but he decided to hold off for the moment. He had questions for the kid, but more importantly, he had to get answers about what was going on from Tristan first. He strapped on his helmet, turned over the ignition, and took off towards Susumu's garage, letting the thrill of the ride distract him from the thousands of questions racing through his mind.


	2. Session 2

**Session 2**

As J.J. pulled up to Susumu's garage, he saw Susumu and Tristan hovering over a workbench, examining something. The pair looked up as J.J. parked the bike and climbed off of it, pulling off his helmet as he did so to reveal his scowl.

"What happened?" Susumu asked him. "The news said that the monster disappeared. Were you able to get any notes about it?"

"Not exactly," J.J. replied with a sigh. "I kind of… drove it off."

Tristan and Susumu both stared at him for several long moments before Tristan said, "Impossible. Forgive me for my bluntness, my dear page, but you appear frailer than the girls of Almencia. You lack the strength to-"

"Oh, well, thanks for the vote of confidence," J.J. snapped. "But I'm not kidding."

"How'd you manage it, then?" Susumu asked patiently.

"It's… probably easier if I show you," J.J. sighed. He stepped away from the pair and pulled the book out of his pocket again, once more pushing the jewel into the central slot on the cover. He then lifted his shirt up, revealing the belt strapped around his waist. Susumu's eyes widened while Tristan raised an eyebrow. J.J. pushed the book into the central buckle and watched as the holographic projection surrounded him again. As it cleared, he stood before him in his suited form. When Tristan saw this, his jaw dropped.

"That is… no," he said softly. "It's similar, but different from the armor that Devon wore."

"You've mentioned that name before," J.J. said from behind the helmet, holding still as Tristan approached him slowly, inspecting his suit. "Who was Devon, exactly?"

"Devon was… my squire," Tristan said sadly, looking up with a sigh as a far-off look clouded his eyes. "Whilst I fought, he would provide me with information on the monsters that I faced, using that book that you possess. To better assist him with this task, Quintus eventually forged armor for him as well, though he lacked the materials to make it as durable as my own. Thus, the armor was more to ensure his protection rather than to encourage him to fight as well. Sadly, I do not know what happened to him. From what you have said, his diary was passed to the Order of the Shield. It is strange to see another wearing armor so similar to what he once did. But you had no way of knowing that, and I forgive this slight against his honor, as you are no knight and normally would never be permitted to sully his armor."

"Great," J.J. said drily, pulling the book out of the buckle. He noticed, to his surprise, that he was still wearing the suit, making him wonder if he only needed to slot the book into the belt buckle in order to put the suit on, and then it could maintain itself. Curious, he pushed on the gem again, and it popped out and dropped into his hand. As it did, the suit splintered into a thousand fragments and dissolved, leaving J.J. in his street clothes again.

"This is good news, though!" Susumu said excitedly. "If you got one of the suits working, maybe we can get Tristan's working again too. How'd you manage it?"

"I think that this can be used as a power source," J.J. said, holding out the amber gem. Both Susumu and Tristan peered at it. Tristan's eyes darkened as he looked up at J.J., and then he raised himself up to his full height. Though he was a head shorter than J.J., he seemed to tower over the younger man, who took a step backwards in alarm.

"That jewel…." he hissed, advancing on J.J. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed J.J.'s shoulders, squeezing them like a vice. J.J. let out a strangled gasp of pain as Tristan growled, "Do you have any idea what you're holding?!"

"Obviously not!" J.J. gasped out, trying to wriggle out of Tristan's grasp. "Why don't you stop squeezing me to death and explain it?"

"Jewels like that one are what turned the citizens of Almencia into monsters!" Tristan shouted at J.J. "Anyone who uses one inevitably turns into a mindless beast! And you _dare_ return holding one?!"

"H-how was I supposed to know that?!" J.J. stammered, still trying to pull away from Tristan. Susumu stepped forward, trying to pry the knight's fingers off of his slender shoulders. "Besides, it's not like I had much choice!"

"You didn't have a choice?!" Tristan roared. "How were you not given a choice?!"

"This… figure in white appeared to me when I was dying!" J.J. protested as Susumu finally managed to pull Tristan's fingers off his shoulders. J.J. winced as he rubbed his arms, certain that he'd have bruises. Tristan was far stronger than he looked. "It brought me back to life with this jewel!"

"Wait. Figure in white?" Tristan asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"Yes…? Why?" J.J. asked.

"That… is unusual," Tristan admitted, frowning. "Everyone that received a jewel was given it by a black figure, not a white one."

"Maybe that's a good thing," J.J. suggested. "Perhaps it's someone different, someone benevolent."

"Hmph. Unlikely," Tristan sneered. "I refuse to trust anything that has the power to create those jewels. In any case, you should find a way to destroy it."

"But it let me fight off that orc," J.J. pointed out. "And I'm alive. Isn't that a good thing?"

Tristan sighed. "You do not understand, young page. As I stated before, without exception, every holder of those jewels inevitably became a monster in some form. I do not understand the process behind it, as I simply cared about how to defeat them when they were attacking Almencia. But if you use the power of that jewel, it will turn you into a monster just as it did with every other citizen of my homeland. And I am certain that whomever this orc was is using a jewel like your own."

"Actually… I know who the orc is," J.J. admitted. Tristan lifted his head slightly, encouraging him to continue. "I didn't exactly kill the orc, so much as I drove it off. It's a kid that I know named Ryan."

"I see," Tristan sighed again. He reached out and put his hand on J.J.'s shoulder. J.J. flinched, remembering how hard he had been gripped before. "Then I trust you know what's to be done."

"…What? You mean kill him?" J.J. asked incredulously.

"I am afraid there is no other-" Tristan began.

"I'm not killing Ryan!" J.J. snapped, shrugging Tristan's hand off of his shoulder as he stared at the knight furiously. "Aren't you supposed to be all about protecting others and whatnot? Why're you jumping straight to cold-blooded murder?!"

"Because that is the only way to put an end to the threat he poses," Tristan said gravely. "I once thought as you did, that I could rescue everyone. But that inevitably failed. The power these jewels grant is… alluring. Those that experienced it inevitably tried to find ways to regain it. In the end, the only way I could find to stop them from returning was-"

"No!" J.J. said firmly. "Look, let me… talk to him first," he suggested. "Maybe I can convince him to just give me his jewel."

"Whatever you must do to ease your conscience," Tristan sighed. "But there is no alternative."

"Okay, I think that's enough of that sort of talk for right now," Susumu said, stepping between them. "In the meantime, J.J., I'm glad to see that you got the book working. That's a good start. Tristan, before, you mentioned that the book was used to gather information on the monsters you fought?"

"Alright, hang on," J.J. interrupted. "I'm sorry, but we can't keep calling these things jewels, and the thing I've been fighting a monster. It's too vague. I think we should use more proper terms for them."

"What'd you have in mind?" Susumu asked.

"Lemme think," J.J. said, rolling the jewel around on the palm of his hand, watching it catch the light. As he did, he was struck once again by how similar it looked to a twenty-sided die. And if it made them into monsters…

"Diemons," J.J. said suddenly. "Dice monsters. And these crystals… dice that form monsters… twenty-sided dice are known as D-20's, so… D-Formers?"

"…Those are terrible puns, and I can't help but love them," Susumu said with a broad grin. "Alright, they're Diemons and D-Formers from now on. Anyways, Tristan, you said that J.J.'s book could provide information on the Diemons?"

"It did, but I am unsure of how it did so," Tristan admitted. "Devon always just approached me with information about the Diemons after I had fought them once. I do not know-"

Before he could continue, J.J. felt the book in his hands twitch, and he nearly dropped it in surprise. Out from under the spine dropped the silver quill he had found before, and to his shock, it caught itself in midair before flying up to hover in front of the three men. All of them gaped at the quill as it turned in the air, almost seeming to look at them, before it dove at the book in J.J.'s hands. It nudged the front cover open and pushed pages aside until it found the first blank one. J.J. watched in amazement as it began scribbling on the page, and when it finished, J.J. peered at the words written in shimmering crimson ink.

 _I believe I can help with that._

The trio traded shocked looks before looking up at the quill hovering in front of them, while the words faded into the page, leaving it blank again. "What?!" they all shouted at once. A tremor ran up the quill, and J.J. could swear that it was laughing.

"It can move on its own?!" Susumu cried, looking like Christmas had come early for him. "I have _got_ to know how that thing works!"

"Quintus truly created miracles," Tristan whispered in awe. "Noble pen, we humbly request your assistance to-"

"Did you really just call it 'noble pen?'" J.J. asked drily, before looking up at the quill. "Can you understand us?"

The quill tilted forward, nodding. "If you were always capable of this, why didn't you do something before?" J.J. added.

The pen dove at his book again, writing furiously, before pausing and moving aside so that J.J. could read.

 _I didn't have sufficient power before. With the power of that D-Former, though, you now have full access to all of the codex's features, including my abilities._

"So then the gem is a good thing?" J.J. asked. Tristan scoffed and looked away.

 _It suffices to power the codex. Let's leave it at that,_ the quill wrote out. _You were also asking how to access information about the monster you fought, correct?_

"Yeah. Can you help with that?" J.J. asked, before pausing. His life had certainly taken a strange turn, he mused. Here he was having a conversation with a sentient feather. And yet, that arguably wasn't even the strangest thing that had happened to him today. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream at that realization.

 _Indeed,_ the pen continued. _As you already attained a sample of blood from your foe during your last battle, you have everything that you need to learn its capabilities._

"A sample of blood… you mean if I cut a Diemon with my sword, you can run a forensic scan on it?" J.J. asked, amazed.

 _Correct,_ the pen replied. _If you do more damage to a… "Diemon" as you called it, you will have a more complete sample to work with. As it stands, you should have a fairly clear picture of your current quarry. Simply write the name of the Diemon at the top of a blank page, and then allow me to do the rest._

"Can it be in English, or does it have to be in Almencian?" J.J. asked, suddenly struck with a thought. "Actually, if you're an Almencian artifact, how _do_ you speak modern English? And how does Tristan, for that matter? That's been bothering me."

 _Many different cultures resided in Almencia,_ the quill explained. _To ensure everyone could understand the champions fighting the Diemons, my creator gave me the ability to translate any language into Almencian and back. Sir Tristan's shield had the same function, and even with very little energy, that function of it should still be operational._

"Which explains why we can understand Tristan and vice versa. Interesting! Does it work with other languages?" J.J. mused. Susumu glanced at him and rattled off a string of Japanese. J.J. stared at him blankly, then shook his head. "Guess not. Shame, a universal translator would have been useful." Shrugging, he turned the diary to a blank page and took hold of the quill. He wrote the word "Orc" at the top of the page, then set down the quill between the book's bindings. Immediately, the pen stood up again and began scribbling furiously on the page, with J.J. holding the book still as it wrote. Once it had finished, it pulled away from the page and hovered over J.J.'s right shoulder, as though admiring its own work.

Several things had been written on the paper. The first thing that caught J.J.'s eye was a rough sketch of Ryan's orc form, hunched over and staring up from the page while growling with malicious intent. Beside that were words denoting stats, such as strength, speed, and defense, and numbers were written beside them. Below the basic stats were blank lines labeled "Special Abilities." J.J. wondered if he simply hadn't collected enough information on Ryan while he had been fighting him.

"That's helpful, though nothing I didn't know already," J.J. murmured. "Obviously an orc is going to be strong, durable, and slow. I just wish I had a frame of reference of my own stats when I'm suited up."

 _Simply turn to the first page,_ the quill implored him. _The information should already be stored there, next to your personal sheet._

"My what?" J.J. asked. He turned to the front of the book, and immediately saw that the first page had been replaced with the sheet of paper that the white figure had given him. The page had a picture of his body standing with his arms out-stretched, with lines pointing to various parts of his body, much like a scientific diagram in a textbook. The lines were all marked with zeroes, while at the bottom were the words "No Request."

"What is this? Is this the page that the angel gave me?" J.J. asked. The quill nodded. J.J. turned the page over and saw a character sheet more like the one that had been drawn for the orc. The numbers written beside his stats were all the same, tens across the board.

"That seems low," J.J. muttered, turning back over to the page with the orc's stats on it. "Particularly compared to the orc's strength. I wasn't expecting to be able to match it blow for blow, but… it's got a sixteen in strength. And endurance is a fourteen." A shiver ran down his body as he realized how outmatched he had been. His only real advantage was in speed, where Ryan was suffering with an abysmal five. But if J.J. took more than a few hits… but he didn't really have a frame of reference for how many hits he _could_ take. And what special abilities was Ryan still hiding? The thought made him queasy.

"Don't just look at the numbers, J.J.," Susumu said reassuringly. "Remember, you were able to beat him before, even though you had no idea what was going on."

"That was a fluke," J.J. said firmly. "Ryan was as surprised as I was. If it comes to blows again, I'm sure he'll be ready for me. That's why I want to talk to him first, see if I can't just convince him to give up his D-Former."

"He will not listen," Tristan interjected emphatically, and J.J. faced him with a scowl. "He's already tasted the power that the jewels grant. He will not wish to relinquish it."

"Maybe, but I'm not going to just walk up to him and pick a fight," J.J. replied shortly. "In the meantime, though… Susumu, you said that you can offer Tristan your place, right? So I don't have to explain to Gary why I need to keep using his back room?"

"He is welcome to stay with me for now, yes," Susumu said with a smile. "I'll even hire him to work in my shop. I could use someone strong to help me move things, and at the same time, I can keep teaching him about technology and the modern world. Tristan, you've been picking it up rather swiftly, honestly. And you don't seem to be experiencing much culture shock."

"I admit that your ways are foreign to me," Tristan agreed, folding his arms over his broad chest. "But when I was put to sleep, I did so under the assumption that much might change once I awoke. And J.J. was most helpful in assisting me in growing used to your world. I must say, you do have a way with words. Perhaps you will succeed in solving this matter peacefully."

"Let's hope so," J.J. agreed, surprised by the knight's sudden compliment. "Can I keep using the bike?" he added, glancing over at Susumu.

"It's yours now," Susumu said with a grin. "A Kamen Rider should have a bike, after all."

"A… what?" J.J. asked, perplexed. Tristan likewise stared at him, confused.

"You looked like a Kamen Rider when you were wearing your armor. They're motorcycle-riding heroes that protect others."

"Stop it," J.J. sighed, rolling his eyes as he straddled the bike. "I'm not a hero. I'm just trying to keep Ryan from getting hurt."

"Exactly," Susumu insisted, his grin broadening as J.J. turned the motorcycle on.

"And once I'm done helping him, I'm done with fighting, period!" he added over the roar of the engine. Despite the noise, he could swear he heard Susumu laughing behind him as he sped off.

* * *

An hour later, J.J. was in Gary's tavern, sipping soda from a glass tankard while typing away on his laptop. He usually split his various projects between days, and today he was trying to continue work on his latest fantasy novel. The publisher had said that he had wanted something that at least had a unique premise, so J.J. was experimenting with a story where a dragon was trapped in human form and had to learn to live among the peasants that he had once tortured. The character was easy to write for a change, but the world was tougher to flesh out. He wanted it to be more than just another medieval fantasy world, but he found himself returning to scenery reminiscent of every forest village in the Middle Ages. He was about to push the computer away from him and take a break when the bell on the door rang and he glanced up to see Ryan walk in.

The boy's clothing was dirty, almost tattered, and he had a few scrapes on his cheeks. However, he was walking with a swagger, quite unlike the usual timid stance he took. As he brushed past a patron, the young man he bumped into spilled his drink, a few drops of it landing on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan paused and turned to glare at the man.

"Oh! Sorry about that!" the man with the drink said, even though Ryan had been the one to bump into him.

Ryan growled in reply, "You think sorry is enough? Why don't you-?!"

"Ryan! I've been looking for you!" J.J. interrupted, walking over to the boy and grabbing him by the shoulder. "I wanted your opinion on the session we have next week!"

"I don't care about that game," Ryan sneered, turning towards J.J. "I've found something much more fun to do."

"Indeed? Why don't you tell me about it?" J.J. insisted as the other man walked off, muttering about kids. Ryan's head snapped towards the mutterings, but J.J. gripped his shoulder a bit harder. Finally, Ryan sighed.

"I suppose," he said sullenly, walking over to the table across from J.J., who forced a smile as he sat across the table from the boy. Gary walked over to them, a pad ready.

"What can I get you, Ryan?" he asked pleasantly.

"Lemonade," Ryan said curtly. Gary narrowed his eyes.

"I'll take a please with that," Gary warned him.

"Just get my drink, Gary," Ryan said dismissively. Gary's eyes widened in fury, until J.J. caught his eye and gave a slight shake of his head. Reluctantly, the bartender put his pad away and went to go fill the drink order.

"What do you want, J.J.?" Ryan asked bluntly. "To talk about the other day, where you saw me chasing those other guys?"

"No, I was going to ask you whether you thought I'd look good in a dress. I'm going for a new look," J.J. responded sarcastically. "Now why're you acting like such a brat?"

"Because I can. Because no one can stop me," Ryan said smugly. "If anyone does, I'll just snap them in half. Isn't that great?"

"Not really, no," J.J. said. "This power can't be what you want."

"Can't it?!" Ryan barked suddenly. "What do you even know about my problems, huh?! Why do you suddenly care?!" The other customers were turning to stare at them, and J.J. winced, grinning at them weakly.

"Easy," J.J. said. "Why don't you tell me what-"

"I tried to tell you before!" Ryan snapped, though he did lower his voice. "I was telling you about those kids bullying me, but you just brushed it off! You were the one who told me you couldn't fight my battles for me! So now I can, and you're getting on me about it?!"

"Listen," J.J. said soothingly. "I'm not going to tell you violence is wrong or that you should solve this by making friends with them. But this… this isn't the way to resolve this."

"Really? They've left me alone ever since I crushed a rock into dust with my bare hands right in front of them," Ryan said with a smirk.

"Was that really you doing that, though? Or was it the crystal that you have?" J.J. asked. Ryan's eyes widened in shock.

"How could you possibly know about that?!" Ryan hissed to him.

"I have my sources," J.J. said, struggling not to smile at how he had put the boy off-balance. "Do you mind if I ask who gave it to you?"

Ryan hesitated, then slowly replied, "If you must know, it was this guy wearing black. Not that it matters."

J.J., however, felt the room grow cold. Tristan had warned him about a figure in black that had handed out D-Formers. Was this the same person that had terrorized Almencia a thousand years ago? How had he wound up in Marville, and when? And why was he doing this?

"You just went pale," Ryan noted, his voice turning smug again. "What, do you know the guy yourself?"

"No," J.J. admitted. "But like you said, that doesn't matter. In any case… okay, the other kids have stopped bothering you, right?" When Ryan nodded, J.J. pressed, "And that's what you wanted? That's why he gave you thats crystal?"

"Yeah," Ryan snorted. "What's your point?"

"If that's the case, then why not just give it up?" J.J. asked simply.

"…What?" Ryan asked, faltering.

"You were given that crystal to give you the strength to fight off your bullies, right? So if that's done, you shouldn't have any further use for it. Why not throw it away and be done with it, if you don't need it anymore? Especially if it was you that chased them off, and not the power of the crystal that you're using."

Ryan remained silent for several long moments, and J.J. knew he had struck a chord with the boy. He could see him struggling to justify hanging on to the D-Former, but J.J. knew that his logic was sound enough that finding a counter-argument was going to be difficult.

"But what if they come after me again and I don't have the strength to fight them off?" Ryan asked. J.J. noted that his tone was no longer that of an arrogant brat, but a scared, timid boy who just wanted his bullies to leave him alone.

"Like I said, I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't fight them back," J.J. said softly. "But in this case, is that really going to solve the problem? Can you really say that this is what you want, needing to depend on something else for strength? To otherwise always be looking over your shoulder, worried if those bullies are going to catch you having an off-day where you forgot your crystal? Is that how you envision living the rest of your life?"

"I… guess not," Ryan admitted meekly. He reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out a crimson crystal shaped like J.J.'s own, cut like a twenty-sided die. Ryan peered through the translucent gem towards J.J., then looked at him over the edge of it.

"Just let it go, Ryan," J.J. implored him.

Ryan's hand began to loosen its grip on the D-Former, but then slowly his face darkened. "Wait… no. I know what's going on here. You saw the power in this crystal, and now you want it for yourself!"

"What? When did I ever say that?" J.J. pointed out. He had been very careful not to say anything along the lines of 'give it to me, I'll dispose of it for you,' to avoid this very reaction, but Ryan was still glaring at him suspiciously, regardless of how carefully he had been picking his words.

"You don't have to! I remember what happened at the school, you know," Ryan said suddenly. "I sent you flying, and you're lucky that I didn't kill you! Then you put on that suit, and… yeah, I remember now! You were the one that cut me!" he shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" J.J. hissed, as the other customers were once more staring at them. Ryan ignored him, bringing his hand up and slamming it down on the table. To J.J.'s shock, he heard the thick oak crack loudly under the boy's hand. While it didn't break, it splintered, leaving a fractured crater in the center of the table. How much strength had Ryan been able to muste? He hadn't even transformed into an orc!

"Stay the hell away from me, J.J.," Ryan growled to him. "If I see you again, I'll snap your neck like a carrot." With that, the boy spun on his heel and walked out the tavern, leaving J.J. gazing silently at the broken wood.

J.J. sank into his seat at the table again, resting his face in his hands. Gary came up behind him, setting down the glass of lemonade he'd made for Ryan.

"Kid owes me a new table," he commented blandly, and despite himself, J.J. let out a snort of laughter. "Don't know how he did this much damage to it, though," Gary added thoughtfully, scratching his beard.

"It's a basic karate trick," came a voice from the door. J.J. looked up to see Susumu and Tristan walking into the tavern. "It's the same thing as breaking boards."

"Ah. Makes sense," Gary agreed without further questions as Susumu and Tristan took a seat across from J.J.

"I assume from your expression that your endeavor was unsuccessful, young page," Tristan commented.

"No, he gave up the D-Former with a smile on his face and happily went on living his life in peace and ignorance," J.J. snapped. "I thought I was getting through to him, too. It's almost like I'm dealing with an addict right now."

"There is only one further course of action, I'm afraid," Tristan said. J.J. began to glare at him, but stopped when he saw a genuinely sad look on the knight's face. He realized that this must have been what Tristan had been forced to go through himself a thousand years ago. How many people had he been forced to slay? The question sent a shiver through J.J.'s body, and he vowed never to ask it.

"Yeah. I'll have to get that crystal back through force, won't I?" J.J. asked. The words dropped from his lips like lead, and he rested his forehead on his hand. Numbly, he pulled out Devon's diary and set it on the table. He picked up the metallic quill, twirling it in his fingers as he opened the book to the page that had Ryan's stats in his orc form.

"It looks like the only real advantage that I have is in speed," J.J. murmured. "Before, though, Ryan was swinging at me like a berserker. I wonder if he'll have learned from that and will tighten up his form this time. I'm not sure even speed is an advantage I can exploit anymore."

"What is your fighting style, page?" Tristan asked.

"I don't really have one," J.J. admitted. "I can hold a sword, but I've never been formally trained in swordplay or anything."

The quill twitched in J.J.'s hand, as if asking to be allowed to say something. Realizing how much attention they'd draw if the pen started moving on its own, J.J. opened the diary to a blank page and held the pen loosely, allowing it to write, but to any observer it would appear that he was just jotting something down.

 _If you require training, might I recommend practicing using me as your blade? I do take the form of your sword, after all._

"Is that right?" J.J. asked quietly. He realized that the shortsword he had been using did have a similar shape to the quill. "Can you blunt your cutting edge? I don't want to accidentally cut someone.'

 _I can, yes,_ his pen replied. J.J. nodded, looking up at Tristan.

"Tristan… can you teach me how to fight?" he asked.

"Sir Tristan," he insisted. "But yes, if you have found your resolve. I would be honored to instruct you. We shall begin as soon as you are ready. However, if I may, before we go? What strange concoction is this?" he asked, picking up the glass of lemonade. He turned it around in his hand, adding, "This water appears cloudy…."

"Try it," J.J. suggested.

Tristan scowled at it, then tentatively took a drink. His eyes bulged, and he immediately spat the drink out, much to the alarm of the other patrons. "Ugh!" he exclaimed in disgust. "What foul potion is this?!"

"Lemonade," J.J. said, unable to keep the grin off his face as he wiped drops of the spilled drink off the table.

"Most foul indeed! If this is some sort of jest, young page, it is in poor taste!" Tristan objected. "For that, your training shall be three times as difficult!"

"Good," J.J. said, a grim look on his face. "I'm going to need all the practice I can get."

* * *

That afternoon, J.J. was standing outside of Susumu's garage. The mechanic was sitting down with his own glass of lemonade in his hand while Tristan stood opposite him, holding a metal pipe.

"You have held a blade before, yes?" Tristan asked, approaching J.J. "Show me your opening stance, if you would."

"Right. How do I get my sword out?" J.J. asked, opening the diary. The quill floated into the air and scribbled quickly onto the blank page he'd opened.

 _Press down on my base,_ the pen explained, before going limp in his hand. J.J. pushed the base of the quill in, like he was clicking the top of a ballpoint pen. As he did, the quill extended out to its full length, the hilt resting comfortably in his palm. Running his fingers gingerly along the blade, he noticed that it was dull, much to his satisfaction. He nodded, then dropped into the ready stance that he had used in his fight against Ryan, angling his body so that his right side was facing Tristan, with the quill held out in front of him. Tristan appraised him for a moment before nodding.

"Ah, yes, a dueling style that nobles in Almencia practiced," he commented. "Where did you learn this style, if I may ask?"

"It's a fencing stance," Susumu piped up.

"Ah! Like in that book on modern swordsmanship that you showed me. Very well. I am familiar with this style, or something like it, and it would indeed suit you well. However, you are leaning too far forward. Straighten up like this," he explained, walking over and helping J.J. shift his balance. He also turned him more so that less of his body was exposed to his opponent, and then he stepped back, still frowning.

"As I said, I do think this is an ideal style for you to pursue, but the small size of your blade is troubling. As tall and as thin as you are, this is an excellent style for you to use, but the length of your sword puts you at a disadvantage when it comes to range. Do you not use a shield?"

"I didn't last time, no," J.J. shook his head. "Did Devon?"

"No, come to think of it," Tristan admitted. "Very well. If that is the form you are comfortable with, we shall have some rudimentary lessons. First, let me gauge a few things." Tristan turned away from him and J.J. began to relax, when Tristan suddenly swung the pipe towards him. J.J. flinched, instinctively bringing his sword up to block the blow. Metal clashed against metal, a loud clanging sound filling the air, and J.J. yelled in pain as the quill was torn from his grasp and clattered against the ground.

"First lesson: Never drop your weapon," Tristan said. J.J. glared at him, but didn't protest as he walked over to collect his sword, since he knew the knight was right. "You have good reflexes, page, but your strength is severely lacking. I have noted that the people of this country are not as hardy as they were in my time, but even by their standards you seem exceptionally frail."

"Writing all the time doesn't exactly give me much time to work out," J.J. protested, shaking his hand to get rid of the stinging sensation.

"Indeed. This shall have to be remedied. For now, though, let us see how well you defend against an attack. Parry!"

Tristan once again swung at him, but this time J.J. was prepared for the blow. He brought the sword up and caught the blow on the flat of the blade. However, he still felt the sword vibrate painfully, and he felt his grip loosen again. Gasping, he stepped back, gingerly holding his wrist.

"You lack the strength to block me with power alone." Tristan explained. "Do not just block. Redirect. Angle your blade like this." He showed J.J. how to shift the angle of his defense. J.J. nodded weakly. When Tristan swung at him again, he tried to mimic the move, but felt his wrist twisting painfully. He let out a whimper, turning away to grip his wrist, gritting his teeth.

"Come!" Tristan insisted. "You have little time to be complaining over the most rudimentary lessons! Your opponent shall have ten times the strength I do."

"Then why don't I just dodge?" J.J. asked, taking advantage of the break in combat to flex his hand, trying to dissipate the pain shooting through it. "That worked well enough last time."

"You yourself said that your opponent likely will not be so gracious as to telegraph his moves," Tristan pointed out. "There is little point in teaching you what you already know. You do not realize it, but you naturally shift your body away from strikes. Dodging comes naturally to you. What is necessary now is to teach you the next step in defense, which is parrying a blow properly. After all, do you truly think you can dodge forever? If you find yourself backed into a corner, how will you defend yourself then?"

"I see your point," J.J. agreed, shaking his hand out before resuming his opening stance. "Thanks for explaining it."

"Naturally. Again! Parry!" Tristan shouted.

For the next hour, the sounds of metal rang out over the courtyard. J.J. was a slow learner when it came to physically mimicking the moves, but he was quick to catch on to the theory behind it. When he finally performed a parry properly, Tristan would simply nod before moving on to the next one. Often, though, J.J.'s form was improper, and he would suffer more pain to his hand and wrist. He noted, though, that Tristan was not attacking his body yet. When he asked about this, Tristan simply chuckled.

"I can only teach you a little with the time we have," he explained. "And there is no telling when your young friend will become a Diemon again. If I were to attack your body, you would be bruised and in no shape to fight him. Do not think that I am going easy on you, however."

"Of course not. But can we take a break for a bit?" J.J. asked. "I can't feel my hand."

"…Very well," Tristan agreed, noticing the haggard state J.J. was in. "Rest for a moment. And I would recommend studying your opponent."

J.J. clicked the pommel of his sword, and it once again shank down to quill size. He then walked over to Susumu and collapsed in a chair beside him, as Susumu handed him a bottle of water, which he took gratefully. Once he swallowed a few mouthfuls, he pulled out his diary again. A frown creased his face as he realized something.

"How am I supposed to summon that belt from last time?" he asked the quill. "I just realized that I haven't worn it since our last fight."

 _You can summon it at any time by simply requesting it,_ the quill explained. _However, it might be easier if you were to use a key phrase to alert me to your wish to assume your armored form. I would recommend a word or phrase that you do not use in everyday speech, so I do not get confused._

Susumu had been reading over J.J.'s shoulder when his face lit up. "Oh! I have a suggestion," he said with a grin. J.J. gave him a curious look as Susumu took hold of the pen and scribbled a single word down on the paper. J.J. cocked an eyebrow at the man.

"This is Japanese, right?"

"That's right. It's a phrase used by Kamen Riders everywhere when they're about to transform. It's fitting that you should as well."

"I'm not a Kamen Rider," J.J. insisted with a sigh. "And please stop treating me like one. You said they're heroes, right? Heroes don't go around preparing to kill frightened teenage boys."

"Not always," Susumu admitted. "But they will do what they have to in order to protect others. That's the essence of a hero, protecting those that need to be protected."

"And what if it's the monster itself that needs to be protected?" J.J. countered. "What if they're the victim?"

"Then hopefully they'd find another way to help them, defeating them without killing them," Susumu said vaguely. "Can you?"

J.J. scowled, turning back to Ryan's page. He slowly ran his eyes down the numbers indicating his physical stats, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he did. Then, he was struck with an idea.

"Quill… what specifically can you track?" he asked slowly, his heart racing as he thought he might have found something.

 _Physical status, special abilities… it depends upon how much data you collect, as I said._

"Could you track form stability?" Susumu stared at him while the quill paused. "What I mean is, when I did enough damage to Ryan, he was forced out of his orc form, right? Is there a way to keep track of how much damage I'd specifically have to do to knock him out of it again, without killing him?"

 _It… would be difficult, but I can approximate based upon his statistics, yes,_ the quill said after a few moments' consideration. _Would you like it in a numerical value?_

"You said you can only approximate. What about a bar, like a health bar?" J.J. suggested. He took hold of the quill and hastily sketched out a bar, labeling it as his maximum health. "As his health goes down, just shade it in like this," J.J. said. "Since I'm constantly cutting him, you'd have increasingly accurate data, right?"

 _That… is correct,_ the quill responded. _This is a possibility I had never considered, but it may indeed be possible for me to track how much damage you would have to inflict in order to destabilize your opponent's Diemon form. If done correctly, you could non-lethally defeat him._

J.J. felt a flush of pride, and Susumu grinned at him, smacking him on the back. Tristan walked over, sipping on some water as well.

"Why so elated?" he asked.

"I may be able to beat Ryan without killing him," J.J. exclaimed. Tristan, however, frowned at him.

"I have already told you, page, that such is impossible. Even if you claim a momentary victory, his desire for power will ensure that he will always return to his monstrous form. Not only that, but I feel you lack the control necessary to ensure a non-lethal defeat."

"But if I can-" J.J. insisted. Tristan interrupted him by slamming his hand down on the little table between Susumu and J.J., knocking the drinks over. J.J. stared up at Tristan, wide-eyed with surprise and fear, as Tristan stood over him.

"Enough!" he snapped. "I will not have you entertaining fool notions that will result in your death! Do you think that I did not try to find a way to defeat the Diemons without slaying them?! Do you think I enjoyed being forced to kill the citizens of my homeland, the very people I was sworn to protect?! If I say it cannot be done, _page_ , it cannot be done!"

"Is that what this is about?" J.J. asked, standing up and towering over Tristan, who continued to glare up at him, unintimidated by J.J.'s superior height. "The fact that you couldn't save everyone? So, just because I might have found a way, you won't even entertain it?"

"…You think you have the necessary touch to control your strikes? Prove it," Tristan snarled, taking a few steps away from J.J. "Come, fight me. I shall only defend."

By now, J.J. was just as furious as the knight, but he realized that he was being baited. Exhaling, he forced himself to calm down, taking his ready stance, before launching an attack at Tristan, stabbing towards his unprotected torso. Almost lazily, Tristan deflected his blade to the side, making J.J. overextend, and he responded by bringing his knee up into J.J.'s stomach. The writer gasped and doubled over in pain as Tristan commented, "Amateur. There was no power behind that blow. Are you truly trying to hit me?"

J.J. let out his breath in a hiss and straightened up, stepping forward and slashing at Tristan, who caught the blade effortlessly with his pipe and knocked it aside. "More power, but no care for control. So you do intend to kill your opponent?" he mocked J.J.

J.J.'s eyes widened in fury, and he once again slashed at Tristan. At the last minute, though, he stepped forward, turning the attack into a thrust. Tristan was momentarily surprised, but stepped aside, knocking the thrust aside, before stepping in and pressing the pipe to J.J.'s neck.

"As I said, you are an amateur, barely able to hold a blade," Tristan whispered to him. "What makes you think you can save this boy's life when I, a knight who trained for years for this, could not?"

J.J.'s hesitated as he felt the pipe pressing to his throat, but then he smiled slightly. "Because unlike you, I believe I can," he replied softly.

Before Tristan could offer a rebuttal, J.J. felt something vibrating in his pocket. At first, he thought it might be his phone, but when he pulled out the device that was shaking, he realized that it was the diary.

"What's going on?" he asked, snapping the quill's pommel to allow it to return to its usual size. The quill nudged a new page open and wrote on the blank parchment:

 _It would seem that young Ryan has once again invoked the power of his D-Former. It is a function my creator gave to me. I can track anyone who has been recorded in this book, no matter how little blood you've taken, and I can alert you when I sense they have once again assumed their Diemon form. I can also provide an approximate location; as you get closer, my vibrations will become more violent._

"Well, that's helpful at least," J.J. murmured. Tristan was still glaring at him, and J.J.'s own expression darkened. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger. If he had to go after Ryan now, a hot head wouldn't do him any good. Turning to Susumu, he asked, "Can I use the Bay-cycle again?"

"Of course," Susumu said. Tristan threw down the metal pipe in disgust.

"You are not prepared for this fight, page," he said.

"Do I have years of martial training? No, of course not," J.J. agreed as he walked over to the motorcycle and straddled it. "But you said yourself, right now, I'm the best you've got. Unless you'd like to try using my D-Former to get your belt working?" he added with a smirk.

"Keep that damned thing away from me!" Tristan growled. Off to the side, Susumu chuckled.

"Then you don't have a choice but to let me handle it my way," J.J. replied, starting up his bike. "So if you'll excuse me, I have an orc to stop." He turned the bike on the gravel driveway and sped off, hurrying down the road as quickly as he could without speeding. Even with the vibration of the bike, he could feel his diary through his jeans, the tingling sensation from its shaking growing stronger as he drew closer to Ryan.

When he finally brought his bike to a halt, it was near a group of houses in a suburban part of town. He parked it when he saw a huge monstrous form swinging furiously at something in a tree. As he looked, he noticed that a boy was clinging to its highest branches, screaming in terror, as the orc ineffectually swung at him. Finally tiring of the game, he walked to the base of the tree and hugged it, starting to pull it out of the ground, as the young boy's screams grew hysterical.

"Ryan!" J.J. bellowed, taking off his helmet. The orc stopped, and both he and the boy turned to look at J.J. slowly walking towards them, holding the diary loosely in his hand.

"Ryan, I'm going to ask you this once," J.J. said firmly, his eyebrows knitted, a determined look on his face. "Let that kid go, give up your crystal, and we can talk this out. If not… I'll have to stop you myself."

Ryan gazed at him from behind glowing yellow eyes, before slowly releasing the tree. J.J. had a moment of hope, but then the monster roared at him, beating his chest, clearly signaling that he was spoiling for a fight.

"So… that's how it has to be, does it?" J.J. asked quietly, his determined look melting into one of sadness. That only lasted a moment, however, as he took a deep breath and nodded. "So be it, then. I'm sorry."

Shifting his stance, he stood facing Ryan sideways with his right foot forward, opening his diary to his own stats page. He held the book in his right hand and brought it up next to his left cheek, his left hand hanging loosely behind him. Staring Ryan in the eyes, he took one last deep breath, before calling out in a clear, loud voice that resounded off the houses, "Henshin!"

Immediately, his belt appeared around his waist, the metallic buckle appearing out of thin air, while the leather belt wrapped around his hips. Snapping the diary shut, he slotted it into the buckle with the spine up, and then he put his palm on the amber D-Former on the front cover and gave it a spin.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** the book shouted, the sound accompanied by a burst of trumpet, and J.J. was engulfed in the amber crystal as he felt the suit wrap around his body once more. When the spinning of the crystal around him stopped, he was standing in his fencer's stance, as the quill from the book flew into his hand. He clicked the bottom of the pen, and it extended into its sword form.

"Alea iacta est," J.J. said softly. "The die is cast."

Ryan screamed at him, charging at full speed, but J.J. was ready this time. As the first punch was thrown at him, he stepped aside and slashed at Ryan's wrist. However, Ryan had indeed learned from their last fight. Before J.J.'s blow landed, Ryan's other fist flew under his first, colliding with J.J.'s chest and sending him flying. J.J. grunted from the force of the blow and landed heavily on his back on someone's lawn, panting. Before he could recover, he looked up to see Ryan running at him, cocking his arm back for another punch.

J.J. quickly brought his quill up, angling it the way that Tristan had shown him, while putting his left hand on the flat of the blade to give him more stability. To his surprise and relief, the edge of the blade bit into the tough flesh of Ryan's arm, cutting deep as his arms slid down the length of the sword and was deflected into the ground beside J.J.'s head. A deep crater was left in the soft earth, but J.J. was unharmed. The orc roared in pain and fury, but J.J. brought his leg up and kicked Ryan in the chest. The Diemon was sent stumbling backwards, caught by surprise by the strength in J.J.'s kick.

J.J. scrambled to his feet as Ryan recovered and began to circle around him slowly, lumbering and grunting with barely-suppressed anger. Ryan was being cautious this time, watching J.J. for an opening, while the young writer was given a chance to resume his fencing stance.

Ryan continued to circle him, clearly waiting for J.J. to make the first move, so J.J. slowly edged towards the lumbering beast. Before he could get in range, however, Ryan threw a jab at him, which J.J. just managed to sway out of the way of in time. Ryan followed it up with another punch, and J.J. stepped back, patiently waiting for Ryan to over-extend himself like he had with Tristan. This blow was followed by a hard right hook, and once it passed him, J.J. stepped forward, stabbing at Ryan's shoulder. The orc roared as the blade pierced his flesh, but before J.J. could continue, he suddenly reached out and grabbed J.J. in a bear hug.

Caught off-guard, J.J. groaned in pain as he was lifted off the ground and slammed into the pavement beneath him, leaving a dent in the asphalt. As he cried out he felt the wind leave his lungs, and he was momentarily stunned. This was followed by another punch to his stomach, and he groaned out, unable to react. Before Ryan could land a third blow, however, he gripped his sword and sliced Ryan across his knuckles, biting deep. Ryan screamed again, giving J.J. the chance to kick his legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, and Ryan fell to the ground with a groan as J.J. scrambled to his feet.

With a break in the action, he pulled his diary out of his belt and flipped it open to Ryan's page. To his dismay, despite the blows he'd landed, the health bar hadn't even been reduced a quarter of the way. Sighing, he snapped the book shut and put it back in his belt, wondering how long he was going to have to keep this up.

Behind him, he heard a rustling sound, and he turned to see that the boy was climbing out of the tree now that Ryan's attention was no longer on him. Ryan noticed this as well, and his eyes widened in fury as he let out a roar of rage. Ignoring J.J., he ran past the suited figure, charging at the boy, who froze in fear. J.J. swore under his breath, dashing in front of Ryan. Before Ryan could defend himself, J.J. stepped forward, stabbing forward with both hands on the hilt of his sword. Ryan's eyes widened in pain as he looked down and saw almost thirty inches of metal sticking out of his stomach. J.J. looked up at Ryan with a glower.

"Your fight is with me, not him," he growled. He pulled the blade from Ryan's stomach, who stumbled backwards, clutching the wound and moaning. Taking advantage of his weakened state, J.J. went on the offensive for the first time. He unleashed a flurry of cuts on Ryan's now unprotected torso, slashing him diagonally four times, as Ryan staggered backwards from the strikes, groaning in pain. Finally, the orc composed himself enough to take another swing at J.J., but J.J. angled his blade again the way Tristan had shown him. His arm sliced itself along the blade again, and Ryan whimpered, clutching his arm, as J.J. kicked him in the stomach near the wound. The orc stumbled back, collapsing on his back and moaning in pain. J.J. looked over his shoulder at the other boy, who was still frozen in fear.

"Hide!" he barked, realizing that there was no way the kid could outrun Ryan in his Diemon form. The boy nodded and quickly scrambled behind his house, out of sight. Turning back to Ryan, J.J. saw that he was slowly picking himself up and trying to stagger to his feet. J.J. pulled out the diary again and flipped it to Ryan's page. To his relief, the health bar was down to about a third of Ryan's health.

"Good. A little more ought to do it," he murmured. His sword twitched in his hand, and he blinked, snapping it down to its quill size to let it speak.

 _You are not in excellent health yourself. You took advantage of his distraction, but in his weakened state, he will be more desperate than ever to end this fight, and he will be exceedingly cautious about any more flurries like your last one. I would advise, instead, using an attack you have not performed yet._

"What do you have in mind?" J.J. asked, watching Ryan warily, who was now on his feet and growling in rage. "Make it quick."

 _Spin your D-Former once more. It will concentrate most of your power into a single blow. Judging by the damage your strikes have done to this point, this final move should be just barely enough to destabilize your friend's Diemon form without killing him. You will not get another chance like this._

Ryan bellowed again, and J.J. decided not to question his belt any further. He slotted the book, put his hand on his own D-Former, and spun it again.

 **"Critical!"** the belt shouted, and J.J. was again surrounded by holographic amber crystal, which slowly spun around him. Glancing down, he felt power collecting into his legs, and he was struck with an idea.

He crouched, took a running start for about five steps, then jumped, flying about twenty feet into the air. As Ryan watched in awe, J.J. rotated diagonally in the air, and the spinning of the crystal around him became faster. As he kept rotating, Ryan roared and tried to throw a punch at him, but it bounced off the crystal shield protecting him. The crystal tightened around J.J. just as he was within a foot of Ryan, and he cried out as he swung his foot around in a roundhouse kick. The blow connected with Ryan's chest, leaving a glowing amber spot on his green skin. J.J. used the force of the kick to flip over the stunned orc, landing on his feet a short distance away. Looking over his shoulder, he saw amber cracks beginning to spread across Ryan's body. J.J. pulled his book out of his belt one last time and watched the last of his health bar dwindle down to nothing. As it did, the amber cracks finished spreading over Ryan's body, and his monster form suddenly exploded in a shower of fractals, leaving the boy standing behind J.J., where he collapsed on the ground. J.J. snapped the book closed and replaced it in his belt.

He ran over to Ryan, kneeling down and putting a gloved hand on the boy's neck, checking for his pulse. To his relief, he could feel a heartbeat, and the boy was softly breathing. It appeared he had just been knocked out. Beside him was his red D-Former, as well as a piece of parchment. Curious, J.J. lifted up the parchment and noticed that it was a stats sheet like the one already in his book, but with everything filled out. On the back was a picture of Ryan standing with his arms outstretched. J.J. recognized it as the same page he had received from the white-masked figure. However, while J.J.'s sheet had zeroes on it, Ryan's had numbers indicating an increase in strength, and at the bottom was the word, "Strength."

 _Place that sheet between my pages,_ the quill implored him suddenly. J.J. nodded, setting it next to his own, and the page glowed for a moment as it magically attached itself to the diary's bindings. J.J. closed the book, then picked up Ryan's D-Former and peered through it with a frown.

From behind the house, the boy Ryan had been terrorizing peeked out, then grinned and walked over to Ryan. "That'll teach ya, you brat!" he snapped, bringing his leg back to kick Ryan's unconscious form.

J.J. stepped between the boy and Ryan, causing the kid to stumble backwards in surprise. His eyes widened as J.J. stood over him.

"You haven't learned anything about pushing someone too far from this?" J.J. asked the boy bluntly.

"What? We were just messing with him," the boy shrugged. "He's the one that can't take a joke.

"A joke," J.J. repeated. He stood up to his full height, towering over the kid. "You just saw me beat that orc. I'm clearly much stronger than you. Would you find it funny if I were to turn around and kick you across the street? To be waiting outside your school every day just to beat you into the ground? And would you find it funny if you couldn't do anything about it?"

"N-no…?" the boy stammered, stepping back.

"That's how Ryan feels all the time with you 'joking' with him," J.J. snarled. "I'd recommend you leave him alone. You don't know when someone will snap, or what they could turn into. You'll come to regret it when you're older, kid."

"F-fine!" the boy cried. "Just leave me alone!"

J.J. put his sword away, then knelt down and picked Ryan up. Wordlessly, he put Ryan in front of him on his bike, then turned it around and drove behind an alley. Once he did, he de-morphed, and then drove Ryan to Susumu's place, carefully holding the unconscious boy between his arms.

When he arrived a short while later, he saw Susumu and Tristan standing around Susumu's workbench. The pair spotted J.J. as he drove up, and both hurried over to him. When they saw Ryan, Susumu's face broke out into a grin of delight, while Tristan stared at him in shock.

"Is that… is that boy the orc?" Tristan asked tentatively. "You did not slay him?"

"He's just sleeping," J.J. assured him. Susumu smiled brightly.

"Let's take him inside and let him lie down," the mechanic suggested. Tristan, however, continued to stare at J.J.

"You managed to defeat him without killing him. I'm very surprised," he admitted. "But he will still try to regain possession of his D-Former. And then you will have to start this process over again."

"Fine. Then I'll just keep beating him," J.J. said shortly, not in the mood to fight with Tristan. He carried Ryan into Susumu's shop as Susumu pulled out a cot for J.J. to lay him down on. J.J. set the boy down, then sat back on a bench. It was then that his adrenaline wore off, and he felt pain shoot across his chest. Grunting, he lifted his shirt up and saw a dark purple spot spreading across his chest.

"Damn," he muttered, the wound throbbing dully. Susumu glanced over at him, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Any broken ribs?" he asked.

"I don't think so," J.J. assured him. "Just a few bruises. I'm glad I had that suit."

"Yeah… I'm sorry," came a soft voice. J.J. looked over in surprise as he saw Ryan stirring, starting to push himself up from the cot. Susumu put a hand on his chest, however, pushing the boy back down.

"Rest for now," he insisted. Ryan sighed, settling back against the taut fabric, before looking over at J.J.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "You were right. When Zack started teasing me again, I just… snapped. I barely remember what happened after that, but I do remember hitting you. And you were right. I was just relying on the crystal to solve my problems."

"It's alright," J.J. laughed. "Friends fight sometimes. I just hope you're okay."

"Yeah. J.J…. I want you to hold on to that crystal for me," Ryan said. There was a sound of breaking glass, and both glanced back to see Tristan had walked into the room, wearing a look of shock. He had clearly been holding a glass that had fallen out of his hand.

"Child… what did you say?" he whispered.

"I don't want that crystal anymore. All it did was turn me into a monster, and when I had it I was always… angry. Now I'm feeling more clear-headed, and I want nothing to do with it. So… can you hang onto it, J.J.?"

"I suppose I can," J.J. agreed.

"This is impossible," Tristan muttered. "Never has anyone surrendered a… D-Former. You should crave its power, its-"

"Well, I don't. And who are you anyways?" Ryan frowned.

"He's a friend as well," J.J. assured him, trying to keep the smug smile off of his face. Everything he had said to Tristan had been proven right. He'd been able to save Ryan and get his D-Former away from him without resistance, and without killing him.

"…I suppose it can't be destroyed now. I do not know if that would kill you," Tristan murmured. "And I suppose the page has proven me wrong. Though the long-term consequences remain to be seen, and you must remain vigilant. Should this child once more desire his power…."

"I'll keep an eye on it. Now will you let him rest?" J.J. sighed. "We'll talk more later, Ryan. Glad to have you back."

"When's the next game session, by the way?" Ryan asked. "We still need to find that princess."

"I'll see about setting it up for next week," J.J. grinned. Ryan nodded, then turned on his side with a sigh and closed his eye, a smile on his face.

J.J. walked out the door and closed it behind him. Tristan and Susumu stood before him, the latter smiling warmly at him.

"Well done winning your first fight. But it all starts here, I suppose," Susumu said. J.J. looked at him curiously.

"Did the boy say where he received his D-Former?" Tristan asked.

"From a masked figure in black, like you said," J.J. admitted reluctantly.

"Then it seems the war has resumed," Tristan sighed. "And I still lack my own armor. For now, you're the only one we can depend on."

"No," J.J. said flatly. "Like I said, I'm done with this. I only did this to save Ryan."

"And if another Diemon appears?" Susumu pointed out.

"That's not my problem," J.J. said, though his voice was unsure. Could he really just walk away from this now?

"And you will permit others to suffer as Ryan has? Or will you allow the citizens of your city to be slain from your own inaction?" Tristan asked.

"Well…." J.J. said hesitantly. As the two stared at him, he sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "Tristan, when you get your own armor back, you'll take over fighting the Diemons, right?"

"It is my sworn duty, yes," Tristan agreed.

"…Fine. Until we get Tristan's armor working, I'll keep an eye out for the Diemons," J.J. sighed. He felt his shoulders slumping as he saw Susumu's grin broadening, and even Tristan nodded at him in approval.

"Your assistance is appreciated, young page," Tristan said.

"Don't call me that," J.J. growled, pushing past him.

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to seeing your growth as a Kamen Rider," Susumu called after him, his voice tinged with laughter. "Kamen Rider Page."

"And definitely don't call me that!" J.J. called over his shoulder as he walked out the door, ignoring Tristan and Susumu laughing behind him as he climbed on his bike to head home and get some sleep.


	3. Session 3

**Session 3**

The steady hoofbeats of three horses echoed through the dark forest, resounding off the narrow dirt path running between the trees. Even though the light was dim, their way was lit by the glowing end of the mage's staff, held aloft as she clung to the reins of her horse. Above them flew the half-draconic monster that had been impersonating the princess, cackling at them as she flew through the treetops.

"Aw, that's adorable! You think you can catch me!" she shrieked, beating her wings again to pick up her pace. As she laughed at them, an arrow flew towards her, and she let out a scream of pain as it pierced her wing. Wind rushed through the torn membrane, and she tumbled out of the sky, crashing hard into the ground as the three heroes stood over her. The knight was the first one off his horse, brandishing his sword.

"Tell us where the princess is!" he shouted, charging at her. Even though she was wounded, though, the draconic monster dodged his blade and lashed out with her tail, striking him in the back. However, his plate mail was too thick, and she only succeeded in making him stumble forward a couple of steps, unharmed.

"Why? It's so much more fun to see you struggle to figure it out!" the beast cackled. Her cackling turned to screaming as she was struck with a bolt of lightning from the female mage, who grinned at her from under her hood.

"I fail to see the purpose of this game," a disembodied voice commented. Back in reality, four heads turned towards Tristan standing at the foot of the table with his arms crossed, a frown on his face as he gazed at the figures on the game mat. "Are you trying to slay this monster, or capture her? And for what purpose?"

"She's our only lead to save the princess," Gwen explained, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on them. "So we're trying to beat her down enough to capture her. Then we can interrogate her about where the Black Legion is holding the princess."

"But then why not bring an army with you?" suggested Tristan.

"It's easier to travel in a small group," Gary explained, rolling the dice. "Thirteen?"

"Yeah, that's a hit," J.J. said. "Both of your daggers tear into her flesh while she's distracted by Gwen's mage. And that's… eighteen damage. She's bleeding now, and furious."

"For what purpose did they capture this princess, though?" Tristan pressed.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Ryan said evenly. J.J. glanced at the boy and smiled slightly. In the four days since he had given up his D-Former, the boy had recovered quickly. His temper was no longer flaring, and thankfully all the wounds that J.J. had inflicted on him had been sustained mostly by his orc form, so Ryan was only left with a few cuts and scrapes. He seemed to be doing well.

"The other reason we didn't bring an army with us," Gary continued, "is that if we did, we'd have to split any rewards we get."

"Ridiculous," Tristan said imperiously. "A true knight does not pursue adventure for the sake of reward, but because it is the right thing to do."

"Heroes fight for any number of reasons," J.J. said bluntly. "Yeah, some do it because it's the right thing to do, but others need a more material reward to pursue. It doesn't matter, though, if everyone is working towards the same goal."

"There is no honor in seeking a reward, though," Tristan insisted.

"Yeah, well, not everyone cares about honor," J.J. sighed. "Now if you're not going to draw up a character sheet and play as well, spectators can shut up while we finish this fight."

Tristan raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent as Ryan's sword cleaved through the draconic woman.

"Your foe screams in pain as her wings are cleft from her body," J.J. explained, rolling the dice. "She gives you all a fiery look of unbridled hatred before falling unconscious. If you don't tend to her wounds soon, she may bleed out and die before you have the chance to ask her any questions."

"I'll heal her," Gwen sighed. "We didn't follow her for three days and through an entire village for her to die on us now."

"And… she's stable," J.J. nodded, closing his books. "We can leave it there for now, since I have to get to work soon."

"Aw, we can't ask her any questions?" Ryan pouted.

"If you just wanted to ask her where the princess was, that'd be one thing," J.J. said. "But she's not willing to give up that information easily. And from the look on Gary's face, he intends to have some fun questioning her."

Gary gave him a wicked, unrepentant grin before shrugging. "What can I say? I'm just playing my character, and my character enjoys interrogation scenes."

"Threatening to scoop out a guard's eyes with a hot teaspoon and then feed them to him isn't an interrogation, Gary," Gwen commented airily.

"Interrogation, torture, same thing to Varis," Gary said nonchalantly.

"Despicable," Tristan muttered.

"Lighten up, Tristan," Gwen said, reaching out and shaking his shoulder. "It's just a game. It's not as if this is something we'd want to do in real life. We enjoy this game because we can do things with our characters that we'd never dream of doing in reality."

"I see it as a reflection of one's true nature. If a person isn't disciplined enough to act with justice and honor in their private lives, then acting as such in public is a mere façade." Tristan explained.

"Well, life is a masquerade," J.J. said. "I'm sure you've done things in your private life that don't hold up to your public ideals."

"Of course not!" Tristan cried, seeming scandalized by the idea. J.J. shook his head, putting his books in his backpack.

"If you say so." As Ryan passed him, J.J. touched the boy's shoulder, nodding over to the corner so that he could speak to him more privately. Ryan looked up at him, then scowled.

"For the hundredth time, J.J., I'm fine," he insisted in a hushed voice. "Yeah, those idiots didn't learn, and they're still bothering me at school, but I'm not going to snap on them again, and I don't want that crystal back. You can stop asking."

"Alright!" J.J. said, holding his hands up defensively. "I'm just worried because Tristan insists that everyone who's had a D-Former taken from them has suffered from some sort of withdrawal effect eventually."

"Well, I haven't. Maybe it's because I didn't use the D-Former for very long, or maybe I'm just naturally strong-willed like that," Ryan suggested, a slight smile crossing his face as J.J. narrowed his eyes at him. "Either way, stop pestering me about it, alright?"

"Fair enough. Sorry," J.J. said.

"Right. And with that, I'm off!" he said, heading out the door as Tristan came up behind J.J., his arms folded and his eyebrow raised.

"I must admit, I did not expect that child to resist the temptation of a D-Former for so long. Every other person has desired their D-Former within a day or two, but he has shown no indication of wanting it back."

"That's good at least. Hopefully it's permanent, then," J.J. said, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. "By the way, I had a thought. Would you mind coming with me to the library tonight?"

"For what purpose?" Tristan asked.

"After work, I was hoping to take another dive into those catacombs beneath the cathedral. I was thinking that if you were found down there, maybe we can also find something to get your own armor working again."

"I have already said that I will not resort to using a D-Former to power my armor," Tristan said, scowling at him.

"I didn't say a D-Former," J.J. said soothingly. "Maybe there's some sort of charging station for your shield that we overlooked, or maybe there are other levels to the catacombs that could give us some answers. If anything, it doesn't hurt to take a second look, does it?"

"I suppose. But in the meantime, what am I supposed to do? I cannot read your books," Tristan pointed out. "While we can communicate verbally, our Fantasy Drivers do not translate written words."

"Fantasy Drivers?" J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That is what Susumu has begun calling our belts," Tristan shrugged. "He said that a Kamen Rider's belt is referred to as a 'driver', and as I came from what you call the Middle Ages…."

"I swear, he needs to get off this Kamen Rider kick he's on," J.J. sighed.

"In the meantime, I trust that you do not mind if I explore the city on my own?" Tristan asked. "I'm eager to learn more about the modern age."

"What?! No!" J.J. said suddenly, his eyes widening in horror. "We don't need another incident like the one where you tried to challenge a motorist to a duel!"

"The light at the crosswalk was clearly red!" Tristan insisted. "He put my life at risk, and if he is willing to endanger the lives of others with his recklessness, then clearly he is willing to put his own life on the line when faced with righteous retaliation!"

"Not that I don't agree with you," J.J. said drily, "but threatening him with decapitation?"

"Perhaps I was too harsh in that regard," Tristan agreed thoughtfully. "Simply branding him with a hot iron so all could see his cowardice would have sufficed."

"What worries me is that I can never tell if you're joking," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes. He looked up thoughtfully. "Why not listen in on storytime with the kids at the library?"

"With children?" Tristan asked skeptically.

"Why not? You said yourself that you still have a lot to learn about our time," J.J. pointed out. "Our stories are how we frame our world, and you need to start with the basics. In fact, you could even have one of the assistants at the library start teaching you how to read and write English as well. While it might have been fine to be illiterate in your time, it's no longer a luxury, but a necessity."

"But to do so with the children…."

"Like I said, you have to start with baby steps. Just tell the volunteer reading that you're from another country and that while you can speak English, you can't read it. It's not a lie, after all. Then ask them if they'd be willing to teach you. After you're done, my shift should be over and we can go dungeon diving."

"…As you say, page," Tristan reluctantly agreed.

* * *

"J.J., you have a moment?" came a voice near his elbow.

J.J. had been standing on his toes, putting one of the books on one of the higher shelves, as he glanced down to see a slightly chubby young woman with blond hair and green eyes hidden behind her glasses. He finished putting the book up before settling onto the balls of his feet and rolling his shoulder slightly.

"What's wrong, Rachel?" he asked. "Wouldn't have anything to do with Tristan, would it?" he added, cocking an eyebrow.

"How'd you guess?" she asked. J.J. smiled grimly.

"It wouldn't be a normal day if he didn't get himself into trouble. What'd he do?"

"Oh… nothing, actually. I was just wondering, is he seeing anyone?" Rachel asked, turning bright red. J.J. stared at her.

"Uh… no. No he is not," J.J. confirmed bluntly, surprised by her interest. "Why? What do you find so attractive about him, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Aside from the fact that he's gorgeous?" Rachel sighed. "He's so charming! Everything he does is so courtly! He calls me 'm'lady,' and he listens attentively to everything I say! I've already taught him the alphabet, and he picked it up quickly, so he's very smart too!"

J.J. stared at her. "…Are you sure this is Tristan?" he asked drily.

"J.J.!" she pouted. "This is serious! Why don't you like him? Aren't you friends with him?"

"Acquaintances brought together by only the most dire of circumstances, at best," J.J. muttered under his breath. When Rachel tilted her head at him curiously, he added, "Sorry, waxing into hyperbole. Ignore it. But he doesn't treat me with the same respect that he apparently treats you, Rachel. Why should I like a guy who refuses to refer to me by my actual name, instead preferring to call me 'page?'"

"I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it," Rachel said softly.

"Yeah, that's just it. He doesn't see a problem calling someone by a servant's title," J.J. sighed. "Anyways… you said he's picking up English rather quickly?"

"He is, yes. He's already memorized the alphabet," Rachel nodded. "He speaks the language rather well. I'm surprised that he didn't learn to read while he was learning it. Where did you say he was from again?"

"Some small island out in the middle of the ocean," J.J. said vaguely. Before she could press him further, he looked up at the clock. Thankfully, it was almost nine, nearly time for him to finish up for the night. "Why don't you head home early? I'll finish up your chores."

"Really? You don't have to do that," Rachel protested. "And I was kinda hoping to walk home with Tristan…."

"Oh, you don't want to do that," J.J. said quickly. "I know him. He'll think you're moving too fast, and while I don't want to discourage you, you should focus on playing the long game, you know? Be yourself, but don't try to push him too fast."

"Oh… yeah, that's a good point," Rachel admitted. "Alright, thanks for taking care of it!"

"Of course!" J.J. said. When he turned his back to her, though, he sighed under his breath. The last thing he wanted was to have the knight try and navigate a modern courtship. On the surface, chivalric courtship was the ideal that a shy girl that Rachel had always wanted to experience, but what worried J.J. was that chivalry could quickly turn to chauvinism. Of course, it wasn't his business to interfere with others' love lives beyond surface advice, but this was definitely not the time for Tristan to get wrapped up in someone trying to start a relationship with him.

Stepping away from the bookshelves, he peered around the corner to where Tristan was sitting on one of the pews, pawing through a book with a look of intense concentration on his face. Leaning over a bit more, he tried to catch the title of the book. He suppressed a small smile when he realized that the book in the knight's lap was _Green Eggs and Ham_.

"Good read?" J.J. asked in what wasn't quite a quip as he carried a stack of books past Tristan. Tristan glanced up, tilting his head.

"I have managed to piece together many of the words, but I fail to understand the motivations of this 'Sam I Am' character. Why is he so insistent upon forcing the protagonist to sample his cuisine?" Tristan asked.

"The overall lesson is about trying something new. I'm surprised you can deciper the alphabet at all," J.J. replied. "I saw a few Almencian words in the diary, and it was all runes to me. And I know you don't speak English, since that wasn't even a language a thousand years ago."

"We were encouraged to learn Latin, as it was a major trade language," Tristan said. "While my Driver does translate what is spoken into Almencian, I have used what I know of Latin, with some assistance from Lady Rachel, to learn a few words of your tongue. Though sadly, much of it still escapes me. She was, however, very patient, and I am grateful for her assistance."

"Yeah, she noticed," J.J. said, grunting as he set the last stack of books on the cart and pushed them down the aisle. "Are you about ready to head into the catacombs?"

"Indeed," Tristan said, closing the book and walking it back over to the children's section while J.J. finished sorting the books. He then walked over to the front door of the library and locked it, before shutting off the lights. Tristan walked back over to him, able to see by the dim glow of a couple of table lamps that had been left on, while J.J. grabbed his backpack and opened it. He pulled out a flashlight and a bag of trail mix, the latter of which he tossed to Tristan.

"Rations?" Tristan asked skeptically, eyeing the food.

"Try it. I know you didn't have dinner," J.J. said. "And I figured I'd pack extra, since I don't know how long we'll be down there. It's better to be prepared."

Tristan reached into the bag and withdrew a handful of the mixture, chewing it hesitantly. His eyes widened with surprise at the flavor. "Surprisingly excellent," he commented. "I appreciate that you were able to procure fresh fruits and nuts. Though… I do not care for these sweet nuts you included," he frowned, holding up a candy-coated chocolate.

"Not a fan of sweets?" J.J. asked.

"Not these no. I can taste granules of something like sand."

"That's pure sugar you're tasting," J.J. laughed. "Just pick the chocolates out and hand them to me if you don't want them, then. In the meantime, let's go."

While Tristan munched on the trail mix, J.J. led the knight into the basement, pulling out his diary as he did. He quickly glanced over the combination to unlock the hidden room and re-opened it, snapping on the flashlight as he did while handing a second one to Tristan after briefly showing him how it worked. Tristan followed at his heels as J.J. led the way down the stairs and into the open chamber where they had first met.

"Have you an inkling of what we might be searching for?" Tristan asked as J.J. handed him a bottle of water to wash down his snack, chewing the chocolates Tristan had given him.

"Anything out of the ordinary, or anything hidden, I suppose?" J.J. suggested. "Unless you can make out what's written here."

Tristan peered over his shoulder as J.J. flipped to the faded pages at the front of the book. He shook his head once he had glanced it over. "They vaguely look like Almencian writing, but it's so faded that I cannot read what's been written there. Have you asked the quill?"

"Good idea," J.J. admitted, annoyed that he hadn't thought of it. The quill seemed to perk up at being addressed and floated out of the crack in the book's binding. "Can you retrace what was written down here?" J.J. asked.

The quill hesitated, skating tentatively over a couple of the faded runes, but then shook itself and nudged the diary to a blank page.

 _It's been so long that my memory is hazy about what's been written there,_ the book admitted.

"Perfect. Then we just look around for anything out of the ordinary," J.J. said, closing the diary and beginning to peer around the room.

For half an hour, the pair scoured the room. J.J. tried many of the tricks he had learned from adventure movies and novels. He tried pulling on the swords of the stone statues lining the room, purposefully stepped on the flagstones on the floor, and scoured the walls for any bricks like the one that had started him on this adventure in the first place. However, there was no indication that the room was anything other than a chamber to hold Tristan while he slept for a thousand years.

"Did Susumu make any headway on getting your armor to work?" J.J. asked after working in silence for several long minutes.

"He maintains that the technology is unlike anything he has ever encountered," Tristan said, grunting as he tried fruitlessly to edge one of the statues to the side. "Alchemy is not the same thing as mechanics, according to him. Whatever secrets Quintus knew, they are lost to the world."

"Of course," J.J. muttered, walking over to the coffin that had housed Tristan. He began to poke around the stone bottom, rapping it lightly with his knuckles and listening to see if it was hollow. "We can't just have the answers immediately, no. We have to go searching for them."

"Do you resent my presence?" Tristan asked suddenly, catching J.J. off-guard. He turned to see the knight staring at him expectantly, and J.J. began hedging.

"I wouldn't say I resent you personally," J.J. said slowly after several moments of thought. "It's more that… I was never asked whether or not I wanted to participate in this war. You and Susumu kind of just pushed me off towards the battlefield, insisting that it was my duty because no one else knew what was going on. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I was able to help Ryan, and I wouldn't have been able to if you guys hadn't insisted I do so. I just feel like I was… drafted into this, under the pretense of 'you're the only one who can.' So if I'm a bit sullen towards you, that's probably what you're seeing. It's not directed at you personally, but the situation in general."

"I see. In that case, I understand. I also was not given a choice about whether I wished to fight for Almencia. For me, though, it was simply a matter of duty, as if I failed, thousands would be slain. I am surprised you do not see it that way."

"I guess part of me is hoping that this is all being overblown and that the threat isn't as major as you're suggesting it is," J.J. said. "There's only been one Diemon so far, after all."

"Perhaps. But in the meantime, we must prepare for the possibility that it will get worse, page," Tristan said.

"Also wish you'd actually call me by my name," J.J. muttered irritably. Brushing his hands along the inside of the coffin, he felt an indentation. Peeking into the corner of the coffin, he saw a tiny button about as big around as a pencil. Tilting his head curiously, he pressed the button, then jumped back as the stone bottom of the coffin slowly began to slide open.

Leaning over the edge of the coffin, he saw that the false bottom opened into darkness. He shined his flashlight down the hole, hoping to see what lay at the bottom, but all he saw was a stone ladder resting against one edge of the coffin, allowing them to descend into the darkness.

"Well, that seems dangerous," J.J. muttered as Tristan walked over to peer into the darkness as well. "If that stone had given way at any point in the last three hundred years or so, you'd be dead."

"Unlikely. The spell meant to keep me in stasis also granted immortality and invincibility," Tristan explained. "While I was unable to interact with the world around me, I was also immune to the ravages of time and space. Even if this cathedral had collapsed around me, my body would have remained unharmed."

"Until it wore off," J.J. said, shuddering at the thought. Tristan also turned pale and cleared his throat.

"Ah… let us see where this leads, shall we?" he suggested, changing the subject. J.J. nodded, gingerly climbing over the edge of the coffin and taking hold of the ladder. He began to descend slowly, pausing occasionally to shine the light down to see where the bottom was. Once again, he was struck with how absurd his life had become. Before he had found the diary, he would have never dared attempt something like this. Poking around a hidden room was one thing, but if he'd had to climb a ladder into total darkness, he would have given up right there.

After what felt like five minutes, J.J.'s feet finally touched solid ground, and he stepped off the ladder and shined his flashlight around. They were standing in a roughly carved cave, and in the distance, J.J. could hear the faint dripping of water. Tristan came up behind him, squinting as he tried to peer through the gloom.

"This is… different," J.J. commented. "Why build something like this under the city?"

"I do not know," Tristan admitted. "I could not ask the builders of your library what their intentions were, but if it this was constructed by the Order of the Shield, it makes me wonder if they were attempting to protect something."

"Should we leave it alone, then?" J.J. suggested. "If what you're saying is true, we probably shouldn't be poking our noses around here. They left clues to find you, but the diary didn't say anything about this."

"Come now, page. You were the one who suggested we undertake this endeavor, were you not?" Tristan asked with a grin. J.J. felt his heart sink at how enthusiastic the knight had suddenly become. That was never a good sign. "Let us see where this passage leads, shall we?"

"Yeah, because that never leads to trouble," J.J. muttered, but fell into step behind Tristan, who began leading them through the spacious cavern. As they trekked, the floor began to gently slope downwards, leading them further underground, and the temperature began to drop. J.J. shivered and zipped up the brown leather jacket he had begun wearing regularly. Tristan, though, gave no sign that he was also getting cold.

After ten minutes of walking, they stopped before an enormous stone door, with runes carved into it. Tristan slowly approached the door while J.J. examined the runes curiously. They were like nothing he had ever seen before. He was vaguely familiar with Norse runes and hieroglyphs, at least to the point where he could recognize them at a glance, but these runes had more curves and circles than any language he had ever seen.

"Oh! This is Almencian!" Tristan said suddenly, his face lighting up with delight.

"Can you read it?" J.J. asked.

"Indeed. But it… makes little sense," Tristan said, his smile fading. "This almost seems to be a riddle."

"A riddle?" J.J. echoed. As he took a step closer, he saw other blocks had been carved out and were placed around the door, each of them bearing their own rune. J.J. pointed to them. "Are those Almencian as well?"

"Yes. Individual sounds, in fact," Tristan commented. "We could use them to form words."

"So then what does the door say?" J.J. asked. "Maybe it's a lock, and the answer to the riddle opens it. That's fairly common in roleplaying games, after all. I've run a few adventures that have these kinds of puzzles."

"Ah," Tristan said noncommittally. "It says, 'I have a thousand tongues, but taste only air. As I eat, I grow. As I drink, I die.'"

"Yeah, that's a riddle alright," J.J. sighed. He folded his arms, pacing back and forth in front of the door while Tristan stared at it with a blank look on his face. "Any idea?"

"I was… never skilled with word games," Tristan admitted. "My pursuits were always martial."

"Yeah… I doubt training as a knight would give you much time to play word games," J.J. agreed, though his tone was not unkind. He scratched his chin for a moment before an idea struck him. "What's the Almencian word for 'fire'?"

Tristan's eyes widened in surprise, and he walked over to the blocks ringing the door. At first he tried pulling them out, but when that didn't work, he pushed on them. As he did, deep clicking sounds echoed through the chamber, and when Tristan pressed the last button, the ground began to shake and dust fell from the ceiling as the door slowly ground open.

"Well done!" Tristan praised J.J.

"Thanks, though I'll admit, I expected a harder riddle," J.J. murmured. Tristan waved that off, and the pair slowly stepped into the next room. As they moved forward, J.J. slipped on the floor and lost his balance. Tristan reached out and grabbed him under his arm, catching him before he hit the ground.

"Thank you," J.J. grunted as he slowly stood up, frowning at the floor. He shined his light at the ground, and saw that it was coated in some sort of greasy liquid. When the light hit it, it reflected in a rainbow of colors.

"Is that… soap?" J.J. asked. Kneeling down, he lightly brushed a finger across it before rubbing it with his thumb and forefinger. It felt greasy and slick, and J.J. lightly sniffed it before grimacing. "No… oil." His eyes then widened with horror as he realized why the password had been 'fire.' If someone had been walking through here with a torch, then slipped and fell on the ground, they would ignite the floor and be incinerated. His body was coated in a cold sweat as he silently thanked Thomas Edison for the invention of the lightbulb.

"I think the Order of the Shield is trying to kill us," J.J. said grimly.

"Naturally. We're trespassing, after all," Tristan said, far too nonchalantly for J.J.'s liking. "Thieves deserve no less. Let us continue, shall we?"

The pair began walking gingerly across the floor, shining the lights in front of them. J.J. spotted a patch where there was no oil and sighed in relief as he stepped on it. As he did, though, the stone sank into the ground, and his heart stopped. To his right, he heard a grinding noise, and he slowly turned to see a panel open to reveal a bronze tube. The tube suddenly expelled a short stream of flame and began slowly tilting down towards the oil-coated floor.

"Run!" Tristan shouted, and he and J.J. began to scramble across the floor. Tristan was far more sure-footed than J.J., who struggled across the slick ground while watching the flamethrower lower towards the floor. Suddenly, he slipped again and tumbled across the ground, getting covered in oil. He clambered to his feet just as the flamethrower touched off the oil.

Tristan had already reached the other side of the room as the flames spread towards J.J., his eyes wide with terror. The knight bounded towards him and grabbed his arm, half-dragging him towards the exit while J.J. scrambled away from the expanding wall of fire. When they finally reached the open doorway leading to the exit, they collapsed on the ground, as the fire stopped at the archway.

J.J. collapsed on the ground, panting and shaking with terror, as Tristan stood beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Will you be alright, page?" he asked softly.

"Just… give me a minute," J.J. gasped. His limbs were quivering as he realized how close he had been to getting immolated. Bile rose in his throat, and he fought the urge to throw up. After several long moments, he slowly raised his head and saw their next obstacle.

A large chasm separated them from the next doorway, and spanning the distance was an ancient bridge. The ropes suspending the bridge were frayed and limp with age, and many of the wooden planks had rotted or fallen out entirely. Even with that considered, J.J. noticed that the planks were spaced in such a way that even in its prime, one would have had to jump from one plank to the next. There had been no way to cross the previous room without getting one's feet covered in oil, so it was likely that the designers of the bridge were hoping trespassers would slip and fall to their deaths.

Tristan was examining the bridge and frowned as he put his hand on the rope. He suddenly snapped his hand back back as the rope frayed under his fingers, and the bridge fell apart in front of him, collapsing into the chasm. J.J. sighed as Tristan gave him an apologetic grin.

"I did not expect that," he commented. "My apologies."

"No, that would have happened the moment we stepped on that thing anyways. Better we did it while on solid ground," J.J. pointed out. "But now we're trapped. Any ideas?"

"Not unless you can jump a chasm by yourself," Tristan admitted.

J.J. snorted, then paused, and then smacked his forehead. "Agh! Idiot!" he cursed himself.

"You have a solution?" Tristan asked.

"One that probably would have worked in the last room too!" J.J. growled, furious that he hadn't thought of the solution earlier. Standing up, he pulled the diary out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Henshin!" he called, his voice echoing in the room, and his driver once again fitted itself around his waist. He slotted the book and spun his D-Former, and his body was once again surrounded by the glowing holographic die as the belt shouted, **"Adventure: Begin!** " As the spinning stopped, he stood before Tristan in his suited form.

"Excellent idea!" Tristan cried, but then his enthusiasm faded. "But… even in that form, can you make the jump across?"

"Normally, no, I don't think so," J.J. admitted. "But I did remember that I have a move that might be able to make it. Here, get close and take my hand."

Tristan did so and stepped close to him as J.J. spun the D-Former again, their bodies once again surrounded by the amber die as the belt shouted, **"Critical!"** He felt strength pooling in his legs, and J.J. took a running leap at the chasm as Tristan gasped in surprise at what he was about to do. At the edge of the gap, J.J. jumped, flying through the air effortlessly as he tried to reach the other side. For a few moments, it looked as if he was about to make it. Then he began falling, his eyes widening in horror behind his mask.

"Quill!" he shouted, and the pen flew into his hand. He clicked the bottom, extending it out into its sabre form, and as they reached the edge of the gap, he reversed his grip on the sword and stabbed it into the stone wall he was about to run into. He grunted as his momentum made him slam into the wall, but the blade bit into the stone like a knife cutting through plastic. He tightened his grip on Tristan's hand, wincing as he heard the knight groan in pain as he was slammed into the wall.

With his right hand still gripped the sword keeping them in place, he lifted Tristan up with just the strength of his left arm and let him clamber over the edge of the gap before pulling himself up as well. Tristan was sporting a bloody nose from where he had hit the wall, but otherwise seemed fine. However, he was glaring furiously at J.J.

"That was reckless and foolish!" he shouted at J.J., who flinched in surprise before looking down at the floor. "You are still unfamiliar with the full capabilities of your suit, and yet you attempted something beyond your abilities! What if your judgement had been even more erroneous?! We would have both perished!"

"You're right," J.J. agreed quickly. "I'm sorry."

Tristan seemed taken aback by how quickly he admitted his fault, and sighed, touching his injured nose with a look of irritation. "Clearly I must redouble my efforts to train you if you're going to behave so foolishly," he muttered angrily. J.J. smiled sheepishly behind his helmet and moved to remove his D-Former, but Tristan held up his hand to stop him. "No, keep your armor on. If the obstacles get more dangerous from here, we will need its power."

J.J. nodded, turning to walk through the doorway. The room was dimly lit by the same crystals that had lined the ceiling of Tristan's crypt. Medieval decorations like tapestries, shields, and ceremonial swords lined the walls. On the ground before them were a pair of unmarked coffins, while between them on a pedestal was a massive clay urn. J.J. hesitated, turning to look at Tristan.

"I don't suppose you'd know anything about this?" he asked. Tristan shook his head.

"Do you wish to see what's inside?" Tristan asked.

"I don't know. Doesn't look like there's anything here that could recharge your Driver, unless it's in those coffins. But what I really want to know is, why go through all the trouble of guarding these coffins?" J.J. asked. "Your tomb was easy to get to, comparatively speaking. While it was hidden, there was nothing lethal protecting it. If this was something that could also help you, make it so difficult to get to? Why bury it so far underground and surround it with traps? What's in those coffins that needs to be so heavily guarded? Is it because it's valuable, or because it's dangerous? I'd rather not mess with it."

"Oh, come now, where is your sense of adventure?" Tristan chuckled. J.J. scowled at him from behind his helmet.

"It went out the window when I started having to deal with ancient knights and monsters wandering around my hometown, and when I became the one that had to solve the problems they caused," he growled.

Tristan chuckled, but his laughter faded when a harsh grinding sound filled the room. The pair turned to watch as the lids of the coffin slowly began sliding open. J.J.'s eyes widened in horror as he gripped his sword, dropping into his fighting stance, while Tristan hovered behind him, watching the coffins apprehensively.

When the heavy lids hit the ground with a resounding crash, a set of daggers flew upwards from one of them, crashing into the glowing crystals above them. The fragments stopped glowing as they shattered against the floor like glass, plunging the room into darkness. An exasperated sigh punctuated the silence.

"Pray tell, what purpose did that serve, fool?" a deep voice growled with irritation.

"The light hurt my eyes! And we've slept for so long! Can't we sleep a little longer?" a voice whined in reply.

"If the wards have failed, the war has resumed," the first voice replied. "We have our duty to the crown. Come, we should depart."

"Fiiiiine. Oooh, but first, look! Guests!" the second voice squealed. "We should thank them, yes? Perhaps they'd like a present?! We should give them a present! Oooh, I know! Let's let them play with the Shards! It's been so long since the Shards last danced! We should let them stretch their legs!"

"Do what you must, fool," the first voice sighed wearily. "I would duel them myself, but we have no time to waste. And though we should dispose of them, my honor dictates that we give them a chance to survive, as thanks for releasing us. Unleash the Shards, then let us depart."

"Goody!" the second voice giggled. There was the sound of stone scraping again, and then something clattering across the floor. J.J. tried to peer through the darkness as he heard footsteps rushing past them, one of them knocking him aside. As he turned, he saw a pair of shadowy figures jump effortlessly over the chasm and disappear into the room of fire.

"Page! Focus!" Tristan shouted. Turning back around, J.J. realized that the room was illuminated again, this time in an eerie electric blue light. Tiny pyramid-shaped crystals littered the ground, and as J.J. watched in horrified fascination, they cracked open like eggs. There was a flash of light, and then standing before them were a half dozen humanoid figures with rocky grey skin laced with glowing blue lines. Jagged, bright blue crystals grew out of their skin at irregular intervals, some on their limbs, others in spots on their torsos. They had no mouths, but in their empty eye sockets glowed bright blue lights, almost like will-o'-the-wisps. J.J. watched them curiously as they slowly turned to face the two men, then suddenly leapt at them, their hands outstretched.

J.J. swayed out of the way as one of the creatures swiped at him like an animal. "Knock it off!" J.J. snapped at the creature, but it ignored him, slashing at him again.

"Do not talk! Fight!" Tristan barked at him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Tristan had gotten his hands on a gilded shield that had been hanging against one wall, as well as a dull, ornate sword. With these, he was fending off the attacks of the monsters. He caught a swipe from one of the creatures on the edge of his shield, then bashed it in the face, causing it to stagger back. While it was stunned, he stepped forward, slashing at the creature's shoulder. To his irritation, the blade bounced off its skin, as if it was made of stone, though thankfully the blade didn't break. Tristan let out a hiss of annoyance.

"I wish I had my armor," he muttered. Instead of attacking it, he parried the next blow, then once again smacked it in the face with his shield. With it stunned again, he lowered his shoulder and pushed it towards the exit of the room. The creature recovered enough to grip the edge of the shield, but by this point Tristan had backed it to the lip of the chasm. With a grunt, he pushed it over the edge, sending it falling into the bottomless pit below.

J.J. turned back around in time to duck under another vicious swipe from the creature in front of him. He decided to stop holding back, stepping in and stabbing the creature in the chest. The blade bit deep into its skin with a faint grinding noise like steel on stone, and as J.J. watched, blue cracks radiated out from his strike, like thin ice breaking. He kicked the creature in the stomach, pulling his blade free as he did, and the creature broke apart like a clay figurine, its glowing lines dimming as it crumpled at his feet and dissolved into dust.

J.J. let out a tsking noise as he watched the creature fall apart, then turned in time to catch another claw on his blade. He kicked the creature in the shin, making it stagger backwards, and before it could regain its balance, he drove the tip of his blade into its chest as well. As he did, though, he felt a claw catch his shoulder, raking along his armor. It pulled him to his knees, and he looked up to see one of the creatures looming over him, cocking its fist back to punch him. Its hand collided with his face, and J.J. grunted in pain, but thankfully the suit absorbed most of the damage. Shaking his head, he slashed the creature's arm before it could hit him again. It didn't react, however, and it seemed not to feel pain, but the momentum of J.J.'s strike did stop its attack. J.J. slashed again, this time across its throat, and the figure dissolved as well.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tristan block another attack, then shift his weight to circle around the beast. He pushed against it hard, the shield catching it directly in the stomach, and it toppled over the edge of the chasm as well. "Page! Dispatch the last one!" Tristan barked at him.

J.J. turned back around as the last monster leapt on him, knocking him to the ground. He tightened his grip on his weapon as he grunted, watching the monster bring its hands up to slam down on him. Before it could, he jammed his blade upwards into its throat, watching the blue light behind its eyes die as it crumbled to ash on top of him.

Groaning, J.J. pushed himself up and dusted off his armor, checking himself over. Aside from a bruise or two, he was relatively unharmed. Tristan was panting and sweating, but aside from a cut over his eye, likewise was fine. He walked over to J.J. and held out his hand, which J.J. took, allowing the knight to pull him to his feet. "A poor performance," Tristan commented, "but we were successful in the end."

"I don't need you criticizing-!" J.J. began, but Tristan shook his head.

"No, my performance was poor. I was once able to dispatch a dozen Shards without suffering any damage. Clearly I am out of practice."

"You used to fight those things?" J.J. asked, feeling a bit ashamed that his first reaction had been to snap at Tristan.

"Yes. Those are Shards. They are mindless creatures that seem drawn to D-Formers. I do not know their origin, but they were one of the greatest threats to the populace of Almencia. They are not very strong when one is using Quintus' armor, but they are numerous, and can pose a threat in large groups, especially to unarmed citizens."

"So they can't be reasoned with? Because you said the same thing about Ryan," J.J. pointed out. He pushed down on the sword's pommel, returning it to its quill form, and he began trying to write the word 'Shard' in his diary. However, as he finished writing, the quill took over in his hand.

 _No information available,_ it said simply.

"I'm not sure they're even alive," Tristan admitted as he peeked over J.J.'s shoulder at the diary. "They do not communicate, unlike some of the Diemons. They only attack anyone between them and an active D-Former. Which may be why they were drawn to you," he added, motioning to J.J.'s belt.

"Wonderful. And those two in the coffins?" J.J. asked.

"I do not know who they are, though one voice was slightly familiar…." Tristan said, trailing off with a thoughtful look on his face. When J.J. tilted his head curiously, Tristan shook his own head. "But it was dark and his voice was echoing, so it's likely I was mistaken. In any case, there seems to be nothing else for us here, so we should depart."

"Sure. How?" J.J. asked. "You don't want me doing another jump across that chasm like the last one, do you?"

"No," Tristan said emphatically. "You're tired, and I doubt we'll make it back across. Even if we did, there's still that room full of fire to work through."

"No thank you," J.J. said with a shudder.

"Let's see if we can find a way out, shall we?" Tristan suggested. "This chamber would not have been designed without a way to escape." J.J. nodded, and the pair spent the next ten minutes examining the room. It was Tristan that pushed on a false wall that led to a hidden ladder. The pair climbed up slowly, too exhausted to speak to each other. They exited in the middle of a park near the library, and to J.J.'s horror, other Shards were already prowling through the dark grass, illuminated by the moonlight.

"Damn…." J.J. groaned as he pulled himself out of the pit, clicking the quill again to extend it back into its sword form, but Tristan put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your mount is not far from here, no? Use that. It will conserve some of your energy and end this battle more quickly."

"Fight on a motorcycle?! Are you insane?!" J.J. cried. "I'm nowhere near skilled enough for that!"

"Of course, you're free to fight them on foot," Tristan pointed out. "But as I said, you are tired, and there are far more Shards there than we faced below. Trust me. You will prevail." J.J. sighed, nodding and running to the parking lot of the cathedral where his bike was parked. Turning it on, he wheeled around and gunned the engine, rushing back to the park. By this point, the Shards seemed to have picked up on the fact that he had a D-Former and were facing him, some crawling in a bestial fashion, others staggering towards him with their hands outstretched.

J.J. revved the engine, gritting his teeth as he let go of the right handlebar, and with a swift movement, slashed through the nearest Shard. The force nearly pulled the sword out of his hand, but the blade cleaved through it cleanly, reducing the monster to dust. Another Shard approached from his left, and he leaned over to cut through that as well. Turning it around, he brought the bike to a stop to parry a third blow and stab another Shard in the chest, before taking off again.

Once he had a little distance, J.J. paused to look over his shoulder at the remaining nine or ten Shards clustering together about a hundred yards away, and he sighed. Glancing at his sword, he reduced it down to its quill size and muttered, "Any ideas?"

The quill tapped his diary, and J.J. pulled it off his belt to let it write. _Your predecessor could use a Critical Strike that could be accomplished only astride a steed, which may be useful in this situation,_ the quill suggested. _I would recommend you activate it, if you wish to resolve this quickly._

J.J. shrugged, putting the diary back in his belt and returning his pen to its sword form. He put his left hand on his D-Former and spun it, listening to the Driver shout into the open air, **"Critical!"** He was once again surrounded by an amber polygon, but rather than staying around him, the light gathered into his sword. J.J. was struck with an idea as he revved up the engine, turning it towards the mob of Shards. He then stepped on the gas, riding directly towards the swarm.

As he drew closer, he slashed across the front of his bike with his blade, and an amber arc flew in front of him. Behind it, he could vaguely make out the form of an amber horse galloping towards the mob of Shards reaching towards him with their claws. The light collided with the Shards, disintegrating them instantly as he rode through them, and when he reached the end of the mob, he brought the bike to a halt on the grass, pausing to look over at the crystalline creatures collapsing into dust on the grass.

Letting out a long sigh of relief, J.J. turned off his bike and pushed down on the D-Former, catching it in his hand as it popped out of the diary. As his suit fractured and disappeared, leaving him in his street clothes, Tristan walked over to him with an approving nod.

"Well done," Tristan said.

"Thanks. But that was a waste," J.J. sighed. "All we did by poking around in that dungeon was make things worse. Now we also have Shards to worry about."

"The Shards would have most likely risen again eventually. Like I said, they are drawn to the power of the D-Formers," Tristan reminded him. "If you were to continue using it to power your armor, they would eventually come after you. At least this way, you know about them."

"There is that," J.J. admitted, too tired to argue. "How often do they tend to appear?"

"Not often, thankfully. Only when a D-Former is active. So long as you do not use your own unnecessarily, they should leave you alone, I believe," Tristan told him.

"So I won't have to worry if they'll attack me while I'm asleep?"

"They may still, of course. But it is unlikely. To be safe, though, we will have to increase your training," Tristan told him. J.J. groaned, and Tristan smiled faintly.

"While we're doing that, would you mind teaching me Almencian as well?" J.J. asked. Tristan regarded him with a look of surprise. "You're not always going to be there to translate for me, after all. I don't know how often I'll run into the language, and there might be important information written in Almencian that I need to know."

"Very well. To get you started, I shall transcribe for you one of our simple children's stories," Tristan told him smugly. J.J. stared at him.

"Did you… just try to get back at me for having you read Dr. Seuss?" J.J. asked.

"Our stories are how we frame the world, and you should start with the basics," Tristan said, echoing J.J.'s earlier words while suppressing a laugh.

"Ah, Fair enough. I'll give you a ride home in the meantime," J.J. said, motioning for Tristan to get on his bike with him. "But one other thing," he added.

"And that is?"

"If I ever suggest going into a crypt again? Tell me I'm an idiot, and then stop me," J.J. groused. Tristan laughed as J.J. turned the bike over, heading for Susumu's garage, though in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't more to uncover in the catacombs beneath the city.

 **A/N: For those of you who have been enjoying the story so far, thank you for your continued support! Over the next two chapters, we'll see J.J.'s first form change, so stay tuned.**

 **-Blackvvater**


	4. Session 4

**Session 4**

"Come now, page, if you do not attack there is no point in training," Tristan said as he stood across from J.J., brandishing a reinforced aluminum pipe at the young writer, who was standing across from him, hesitating. "No battle is won by staring at your opponent, and you cannot perfect a thrusting attack if you do not attempt it."

J.J. ignored the taunt, watching Tristan carefully for any sign of an opening. They had been at this for over an hour, and every bit of him was sore. The knight was merciless in training him. He parried every thrust J.J. threw at him, and did not hesitate to counter-attack when J.J. stepped in too far. His body was covered in light bruises and bumps from where Tristan had repeatedly swatted him. Thankfully, the aluminum pipe Tristan was using did not have the weight to do much damage, but it was still hard enough to leave him smarting when he was struck with it. Over the course of the last hour, J.J.'s long hair had come loose from his ponytail and was hanging limply around his shoulders. His clothing was wrinkled and drenched with sweat, and one knee of his jeans had been torn, revealing a bloody scrape on his kneecap. By contrast, Tristan seemed to have barely broken a sweat. J.J. suspected he wasn't even breathing heavily.

"I said attack, page!" Tristan ordered him. Hissing in annoyance, J.J. forced himself to keep his cool. Rather than rushing in like Tristan clearly wanted him to do, he took two steps forward and thrusted towards Tristan's nearest shoulder. Almost lazily, Tristan swatted his blade out of the way, smacked J.J. on the inside of his forearm, making him drop his sword, and then slid the pipe under his knees and pulled. J.J. landed heavily on his back with a grunt, groaning in pain as Tristan stood over him, holding the pipe to his throat.

"When I say attack, I mean attack with actual killing intent," Tristan commented patiently, repeating a line he must have said two dozen times over the past hour. "There was no power behind that thrust."

"Of course there wasn't! I can barely keep my arms up!" J.J. snapped, finally losing control of his temper. "What do you expect? You've been smacking me around like a ragdoll for the last hour! You're supposed to be teaching me, right? All you've done is beat me until I'm black and blue! So, yeah, I'm sick of getting hit, and I'm going to study your counters so that I don't get hurt!"

"Your line of thinking is sound," Tristan admitted, reaching down and grabbing J.J. under his arm, pulling him to his feet. "However, that is too advanced for you right now. I want you to learn the basic movements involved in swordplay. Furthermore, it is clear that you are not studying me. You are hesitating, fearing what will happen when I counter-attack. In focusing on defense, you are unconsciously slowing your own movements. This is also making your strikes more obvious, and you are wasting movement while trying to out-think me."

"But even when I just go in and attack, you're still hitting me!" J.J. protested. "All I'm doing is piling up bruises! How am I supposed to learn if I don't pay attention to what I'm doing? What, you want me to just blindly rush in?"

"I did not say that. It is good that you are trying to learn, but you are spending too much time thinking about what I am doing, rather than what you are doing," Tristan explained patiently. "I am only striking you when your form is incorrect. For instance, when I hit your forearm before, it is because your strike was too slow. Had you stepped in and stabbed properly, I would not have had time to do that. Your body will learn the proper movements in time, but the learning process is painful and difficult. And if you are focused on what I am doing, you will not learn properly, and I will continue to strike you."

J.J. snarled, walking away from Tristan and taking a position about ten feet from him. "Fine," he said shortly. "You want me to just attack? I'll do that. Again."

Tristan said nothing as he took his own fighting stance, holding the pipe with both hands and nodding to J.J. Growling, J.J. suddenly charged in, wildly slashing at Tristan, at this point intent on leaving him with a bruise or two. Tristan caught the blow on the pipe, but before he could deflect it to the side, J.J. brought the sword back for another attack, this time aiming for his neck. Seeing this, Tristan swayed to the side, stepping around J.J. as he over-extended, and he smacked the young writer in the ribs, hard enough to cause him to gasp out and collapse on the ground, holding his side.

"Better, in a way. At least there was killing intent that time," Tristan said. "But you cannot lose yourself in a mindless fury. And you still did not perform the thrust properly." J.J. glared up at the knight, pinning him with a murderous look even as he gritted his teeth in pain.

"Alright, I think that's enough," Susumu called out from his seat, clapping his hands loudly to get their attention. "Any more and J.J. is going to snap. Why don't we give him some rest and some water, and try again in a little bit?"

"Hm. I suppose there's little point in continuing," Tristan agreed. "You are growing tired and frustrated, and you will not learn in that state of mind. Drink and recover. We will try again shortly."

"Thank you so much for your mercy," J.J. snarled, grunting as he pushed himself up and limped over to an empty lawn chair beside Susumu. He collapsed in it and put his arm over his eyes, plunging his vision into blissful darkness. He felt every wound more keenly with his vision blacked out, the bruises throbbing dully in time with his heartbeat. He took slow, deep breaths to try and stem the pain, while at the same time controlling his simmering temper.

"Here," came a voice to his left, and he peeked out from under his arm to see Susumu handing him a bottle of chilled water. "Drink this slowly. Right now, if you chug this down, you'll make yourself sick."

J.J. took the bottle and slowly opened it, pressing it to his lips. As soon as he did, he felt the urge to down the bottle all at once, desperate to feel the cool water flood over his hot, swollen tongue. Instead, he forced himself to take slow sips, letting the water coat the inside of his mouth before swallowing it. When the bottle was half-empty, he sighed and looked down at his diary.

"I thought the abilities the diary gave me were centered around analysis," J.J. said once he had caught his breath. "Doesn't that mean I should slow down and assess the situation? Every story that I've read derides people that go charging into a fight like reckless idiots."

"There's some truth to that, yeah," Susumu admitted. "However, you have the opposite problem. You're not being careful, you're being timid. Like Tristan said, there's no… bite to your attacks. That's more likely to get you hurt in a fight than if you were to just run in without thinking."

"But he's not actually teaching me any techniques," J.J. pointed out. "Aside from just holding a sword and taking a few swings. Maybe if I had more options to work with-"

"You are not yet ready for anything more advanced yet," Tristan explained as he took a seat next to Susumu, ignoring J.J. leaning over to glower at him. "For now, a basic thrusting attack will serve as a good base for your style. However, there is no point in going further right now, because you have not yet mastered the most elementary technique that I have taught you. If you cannot even perform a simple thrust properly, then trying to teach you more advanced moves would be a waste of time."

J.J. sighed and closed his eyes, folding his hands and leaning his chin on them while considering Tristan's words silently. Behind him, he heard Susumu motioning and Tristan protesting before the latter seemed to relent about something. After a few moments, he heard Tristan speak again.

"I will admit this. You are learning faster than I did when I first picked up a sword. My own teacher was far more exasperated with me than I am with you."

"Mm?" J.J. asked, opening one eye. "You don't usually talk about your past. Who was he?"

"Sir Agnar the Just," Tristan said, getting a far-off look in his eyes. "He was the greatest swordsman in all of Almencia. I believe his family was originally Norman, until they traveled to Almencia. He served as the Knight-Captain of the Royal Guards, and was a direct confidant of the king himself. In my opinion, there was never a more devoted servant to the crown. Under his leadership, Almencia became practically free from crime, and he was hailed across the land as a true hero for bringing peace to the common folk. I used to idolize him as a boy."

"Did he… fall during the last war with the Diemons?" J.J. asked slowly. "If you don't mind me asking, of course. I don't want to dig up painful memories."

"Unfortunately, yes, he did," Tristan said bluntly, his expression darkening. "He was slain in single combat with the black Diemon lord that originally forged the D-Formers. I personally watched him die."

"I'm sorry," J.J. said softly. After a moment, he decided to broach what he hoped was a happier topic. "If you don't mind me asking, what was he like? I mean, you knew him, didn't you?"

"Yes. He was… fiercely loyal to the crown," Tristan said, his expression softening again, a slight smile on his lips. "He earned the title of 'the Just' because he could not abide a citizen of Almencia not obeying the laws set forth by the king. And he was a strict instructor. He used to have new guards practice fighting techniques from first light to sunset, with only two small meals per day. Always the same fare, too. Porridge, dried meat, onions, turnips, and dark ale. He told us that we needed nothing else. We grew to despise the meal, until one of my fellow knights complained, and he starved us for three days. After that, we came to love it," Tristan said, chuckling at the memory.

"Wow. You… did have it rough…." J.J. said in disbelief.

"Oh, I have not mentioned the day-long marches through the mountains, the fighting circles where we had to face a dozen of our peers at once, being woken up in the middle of the night to practice fighting in darkness, the-"

"Alright, I get it!" J.J. cried. Tristan grinned at him. "But then why aren't you putting me through all of that?" he added. "If it's what made you into a knight that could defend Almencia properly, why aren't you pushing me harder?"

"Because we do not have time for that," Tristan explained. "If I was given the option, I would train you as hard as I could. However, the war is already upon us, and I cannot push you to the point of breaking if there is a possibility that another Diemon might appear. It would do us no good if our sole defender is in no shape to fight when this city needs him the most. Therefore, I am attempting to drill you in fighting techniques alone, so that you can at least stand against the Diemons when they appear."

"So… this is you taking it easy on me?" J.J. grimaced. He wasn't sure if he was more annoyed by the fact that this was what Tristan considered "light" training, or the fact that he could barely even take this much. How pathetic was he, really?

"This is me attempting to impart as much knowledge as I can upon you in the limited time that we have. In some ways, it is easier than what I went through. In other ways, I am pushing you far harder than I ever was, attempting to perfect your fighting techniques in a fraction of the time that I was given to learn them. And you are doing an admirable job, given that you began barely a few weeks ago," Tristan assured him. Despite himself, J.J. smiled, while behind him Susumu nodded encouragingly to Tristan.

In his pocket, he felt his diary vibrating, as if his quill had something it wanted to say as well. Curiously, he pulled it out, and his quill floated in front of him, pushing aside pages for him until it found the stats page detailing his own abilities when suited up. The quill pointed to a certain spot, and J.J. looked more closely. Above his picture, he saw a box that had once been a zero had changed to a one.

"What does that mean?" J.J. asked the quill, which glanced at him and flipped the diary to a blank page.

 _You seemed as if you needed evidence that you are improving. This is your evidence. As you continue to fight and gain experience using your abilities, you will be able to allocate accumulated experience towards your stats, as you call them. Over the course of your last few battles, you have attained what may be termed a stat point. You may use this to better increase your synchronization with your suit, allowing you to safely draw upon more of its abilities. You may assign this point to any of your core stats, such as strength or speed, which will allow you to perform better in combat._

J.J. stared in surprise at the page, before showing it to Tristan and Susumu. Tristan chuckled, scratching under his chin.

"I am unfamiliar with this. Devon never mentioned it when he was using the suit," he admitted.

"Any suggestions?" J.J. asked.

"For your style, I would recommend assigning that first point to speed. You will need to be faster with your blade, especially if you wish to continue pursuing a dueling style." J.J. nodded, and the quill, hearing Tristan's suggestion, flipped to the stats page and scratched out the one, putting it instead next to J.J.'s speed stat. The book then magically changed the ten in speed to an eleven.

"See?" Susumu smiled, leaning over to peer at J.J.'s book. "You _are_ getting better, even in such a short period of time. So don't get discouraged, alright?"

"Right," J.J. agreed, smiling ruefully.

"Therefore," Tristan continued, pushing himself up and brandishing his pipe towards J.J., who groaned softly. "I would recommend that you listen to my instructions and learn quickly from what I am teaching you. From what I have seen, you are a swift learner, but you will have to learn even faster if you are to be an adequate guardian for this city. So… stand, page, and let us try it again."

J.J. exhaled softly, slowly pushing himself up. He winced as he put his weight on his sore right leg, but grit his teeth and forced himself to stand a bit straighter. Tristan had gone out of his way to encourage him, so the least he could do was pay his instructor back in kind by trying to be a good student. When Tristan saw him straighten up despite the lingering pain, he gave a slight nod of approval.

"Good. That is the resolve you will need. Now, again! Thrust!"

J.J. exhaled, standing on his toes like he was taught, and danced forward with a hard thrust aimed at Tristan's chest. Despite his improved speed, however, Tristan batted the blow aside, and as J.J. tried to recover, the hard pipe smacked him on the forearm, making J.J. gasp out in pain.

"Are you trying to stab me, or poke holes in a sack of flour?" Tristan taunted him. "Again!"

Grimacing, J.J. turned around again and reset his position, wondering in the back of his mind if going on a day-long march would be a welcome change from being beaten down like this by the knight.

* * *

Later that afternoon, J.J. was sitting in Gary's tavern, nursing both his wounds and a tankard full of a blue sports drink while trying to type on his computer, editing the fifth chapter of his book. The fingers on his right hand kept locking up from holding the sword for too long, and the hard wood of the chair was digging into his back. Across from him, Tristan watched him while reading _How the Grinch Stole Christmas._

"Straighten your back, page," Tristan said absently as J.J. began to slouch in the chair. The writer looked up to glower at Tristan over the lip of his computer. "You must learn to keep your torso straight, even when you are relaxing. It will improve your form while you are fighting."

"So we're doing the 'I can't have a break even when I'm not officially training' thing now?" J.J. asked with a scowl.

"Of course. Every moment of your day is an opportunity to train," Tristan said, idly turning one of the pages of the book. "Your posture is sloppy, and you have a tendency to hunch over when you grow fatigued during a fight. Doing so over-extends your back and can lead to injury if you do not correct it."

J.J. narrowed his eyes, but did as the knight instructed, wincing as he slowly shifted himself so that his back was pressed flat against the hard wood of the chair. His muscles screamed at him for a break, but the cool wood did feel good through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, as he had taken his leather jacket off while he was writing.

"You okay there?" Gary asked, walking over to set another glass down in front of J.J. as he drained the third mug of blue liquid. "You're looking like you lost a fight with a gorilla. I don't think I've seen you this worn out since college."

"You could say that, yeah," J.J. said, scowling at Tristan, who blithely ignored him. "I'm trying to work out a little bit more. Figured I should get back in shape, since it's not like doing a little more exercise will do me any harm."

"Mm. Well, it's good that you're getting in shape, but don't overdo it," Gary said in a cautious tone. "If you push yourself too hard, all you'll wind up doing is hurting yourself. Especially since you just picked it up again for the first time in a while, right? Take it slow for now."

"Good advice," J.J. agreed, raising an eyebrow at Tristan, who continued to ignore the looks the author was shooting at him.

"I fail to see the appeal of this Grinch character," Tristan commented. Gary raised an eyebrow, but J.J. shook his head to keep the bartender from asking questions. Gary shrugged, turning around and wandering back to the bar. "Why is he the focus of this story? He is a singularly unpleasant fellow."

"Sometimes a story works best when told from the point of view of a character who has something about him that needs to be changed," J.J. suggested, looking over the rim of his computer with a calmer expression. "I assume that the stories you've read feature knights who are always perfect, who never do anything wrong?"

"Indeed. Our tales are about heroes who serve as an example to the reader, acting as an ideal they must emulate. Who would wish to emulate this Grinch?" he scoffed. "One who not only despises a festival of merriment, but actively seeks to disrupt it?"

"Protagonists serve as examples for many things," J.J. explained. "And sometimes they need to serve as examples of ideals one should _not_ emulate. The Grinch there, for instance, is the main focus of the story because it's a tale about how one should not act. And in my opinion, those stories are better, because the character must actively learn and grow, rather than remaining static throughout and learning nothing. Keep reading to the end. I think you'll appreciate how it concludes," J.J. chuckled. Tristan gave him a skeptical look, but shrugged and went back to reading as J.J. resumed typing.

A few minutes later, J.J. noticed that the tavern was unusually quiet. He glanced up to see Gary staring at the TV playing above the bar. From where he was, he couldn't make out what was going on. "Are you watching a good episode of This Old Bar or something?" J.J. quipped.

"No, come take a look at this," Gary said, motioning the pair over. J.J. winced as he stood up, favoring his hip slightly as they walked over to the bar, where a newscaster was standing in front of the business district of Marville. In the background, J.J. could make out grey and blue figures staggering down the street.

"-strange creatures which have been seen prowling the streets, terrorizing the residents," the woman was saying. "Worse, they seem to be following some sort of monster that witnesses say was breathing fire. While police are looking into potential arson cases…."

"Shards," J.J. muttered under his breath, and Tristan nodded grimly.

"They're likely following a Diemon," Tristan whispered back. "Do you know where that place is?"

"Yeah, I recognize the area," J.J. admitted. "I'll go take a look."

"I'm coming with you," Tristan said. J.J. raised an eyebrow at him.

"You remember the last time we fought the Shards? You couldn't do any damage to them. I know that sword you grabbed was probably dull, but do you think that made a difference? I don't think you'll be able to hurt them with anything other than my own sword, and you refuse to use that."

"I'm not going there to fight them. That is your duty, page," Tristan smiled. "I am merely accompanying you to see how you fight, to observe if my training has begun to pay off. And perhaps I might offer suggestions about how you can improve from this point forward."

J.J. hesitated. On the one hand, it would be good for Tristan to watch him and give him some pointers. And yet… as harsh as he had been with training thus far, how would he react when he saw J.J. in an actual fight? Would he try to interfere, to give out advice while J.J. was trying to concentrate on the battle?

He continued hedging for a few moments, until a scream from the TV snapped him out of it. Sighing, he nodded reluctantly. "Alright, you can come, but promise me that you'll stay out of it while I'm fighting," J.J. warned him.

"You have my word," Tristan assured him. J.J. nodded, then glanced over at Gary, handing him his credit card.

"We're gonna head out for now," J.J. said. "I'm going to take Tristan over to Susumu's." Privately, he was concerned with how easy lying to Gary had become for him. But Gary was the last person he wanted to know that he was the suited warrior that had been fighting the last few days. Rumors of his fight against Ryan had been floated once or twice around the tavern, and he didn't want Gary to have to field questions from curious patrons if they figured out that said warrior frequented Gary's tavern during his down time.

"That's fine. Drive safe. If something is going down, keep out of the middle of it," Gary cautioned him, handing him back his credit card and receipt.

"Of course," J.J. assured him, once again lying through his teeth. He tossed Gary a wave while Tristan bowed, and then the pair hurried out the door, climbing onto the Bay-cycle as they strapped on their helmets. J.J. turned the bike on while Tristan held around his middle, and he sped down the street towards the downtown area.

As they drew closer to the scene of the attack, the traffic became heavier, and a few blocks from the business district, J.J. finally had to park the bike in a parking garage, as the cars had been brought to a standstill. He and Tristan climbed the stairs to the top of the building, and looking down, he could make out the glowing blue figures of Shards surrounding a black figure with glowing red lines. J.J. stepped back from the edge, looking over at Tristan.

"Are you going to be alright up here?" he asked.

"This will be an excellent vantage point to view your battle, yes," Tristan said. "Be careful and remember your training."

"Right," J.J. said, pulling out his diary and flipping it open to his stats page. He held it up next to his left cheek, looking down at the fight below as he took a deep breath, calling out, "Henshin!"

His Driver appeared around his waist, and he snapped the diary shut, slotting it into the belt before spinning the amber D-Former on the cover. **"Adventure: Begin!"** the Driver shouted, followed by the blare of a trumpet, and J.J. was surrounded by the now-familiar amber die formation, which spun around him for a few moments before disappearing, leaving him standing in front of Tristan, clad once more in his stylized leather armor. Tristan nodded as J.J. vaulted the building, landing on a staircase a few stories below. He jumped off of this, doing a quick flip over the crowd, before landing lightly in the center of the crowd surrounding the Shards and the unfamiliar Diemon.

The crowd around him gasped, and J.J. winced at their reaction. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that this was the first time he had been surrounded by so many people while suited up. If people were unaware of his presence in the city before today, they sure as hell knew about him now.

"It's another monster!" someone screamed, and the police trained their weapons on him. J.J. turned, holding up his hands placatingly.

"Easy, easy!" J.J. protested. "I'm here to help!"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step behind the police line," a rather brave sergeant insisted to him. "This is no place for civilians!"

"Listen, officer, I-" J.J. began, but he was distracted by a sudden burst of flame that caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Reacting quickly, he grabbed the officer and hit the ground, the plume of flame erupting over his head as the crowd screamed and scrambled backward. Seeming encouraged by this, the Shards rushed forward towards J.J.'s prone form.

"Alright then. Alea iacta est," J.J. said softly as his quill flew into his hand, and he clicked it once to extend it into its sword form. As the Shards charged towards him, J.J. dropped into his fencing stance, and swayed out of the way of the first claw strike, stepping in smoothly and stabbing the Shard effortlessly, his blade grinding along its rocky skin. A long gash opened along its chest, and the creature fell to the ground in a heap of ash behind him. A second Shard tried to punch him, but he instinctively dodged to the right, thrusting twice towards its unprotected back, and it collapsed as well as the blade struck it.

"Open fire!" he heard behind him, and J.J. quickly skirted out of the way as the police unleashed a hail of bullets on the Shards. However, the rounds bounced harmlessly off the hard skin of the Shards, ricocheting against the street as the police ducked in fear. The Shards turned their attention towards the officers, but J.J. took advantage of the distraction to charge them, slashing three of them in quick succession, making them collapse into piles of grey ash as well.

"Officers, get the civilians out of here! I'll handle this!" J.J. ordered the cops. Unwilling to argue with him any further, the sergeant he had saved nodded and began ushering the crowd away from the fight, while J.J. turned his attention back to the last two Shards facing him. Easily, he ducked under the punch of one Shard, slipping past it to block a second attack from its compatriot with the flat of his blade, turning it aside like Tristan had done to him several times that afternoon, leaving it open to a counter-attack. He pierced its neck before improvising a bit, turning his blade around in his hand and stabbing behind him as he heard the other Shard try to attack his unprotected back. He felt his blade shiver as it pierced the hard, rocky hide of the Shard, and the last two beasts collapsed into mounds of dust while J.J. straightened up.

J.J. felt a brief flush of pride as he realized how easily he had managed to take down the Shards. When he had faced them last, it felt as though he and Tristan had been on the back foot the entire time, but this time he had managed to destroy seven of them by himself, without even taking a hit.

 _Don't get cocky,_ he told himself sternly. However, he had to admit that he was now feeling more confident in his own abilities. Tristan's training had paid off, as he now had a better idea of what he had to do when someone attacked him. His body also felt a bit lighter, perhaps a result of him modifying his stats to add a little more speed when he was transformed. Or perhaps it was because he wasn't holding back against the Shards? Whatever the reason, as the Diemon turned to face him, he was able to stand before it with an almost relaxed stance. He could do this, he thought to himself.

"So, if I may ask, what're you doing here?" J.J. asked, his sword arm hanging loosely in front of him, not in a threatening stance, but a cautious one. "The business district seems like an odd place for a monster to take a stroll."

As the Diemon pinned him under its gaze, J.J. had to struggle not to flinch. Privately, he had to admit that the monster was rather intimidating. It had reflective, obsidian skin that was cracked with thin veins of fiery orange and yellow, flowing across its skin like little streams of lava. Its body was bare, save for a black skirt wrapped around its waist, showing off its impressive musculature. Its eyes were glowing orbs of fire, and from the back of its head flowed a burning topknot that flickered and danced like a flame in the wind. As it gazed at him, a slow smirk spread across its face, and J.J. could see the inside of its mouth likewise glowed with burning orange light.

"This?" it asked in a deep, booming voice, turning to sweep its arm behind itself to gesture at the large building. "This is merely retribution against those that have done horrible wrongs to me. Ten years of loyal service, only to be fired? Does that seem fair to you?"

"Okay… yes, getting fired sucks. I do sympathize with not being able to hold down a job," J.J. agreed. "But maybe they had their reasons. Besides, don't you think this is a bit of an overreaction?"

"An overreaction? You don't know anything about my life," the Diemon said, its smirk fading, replaced with a furious glare. "No, this is entirely necessary. Don't worry. I don't intend to harm anyone other than those that deserve it. And I must thank you for dispersing those creatures and those bystanders. They were becoming an annoyance. In return, I'll allow you to leave now. That's the only offer I'm going to make. But I'm not walking away from this building until it's a pile of cinders."

J.J. let out a sigh as he reluctantly raised his sword and pointed it at the Diemon. "Unfortunately, I can't just let you destroy a building, no matter how much your bosses ticked you off. You sure we can't talk this out?" he asked one last time.

In response, the Diemon leapt at him, suddenly swinging at J.J. with a heavy fist. As he had been expecting this, J.J. was quick enough to lean back, but the monster pressed the attack, following it up with a hard kick towards J.J.'s leg. J.J. grunted, feeling it impact with his thigh, and his leg collapsed inward slightly as the blow connected directly with one of the bruises that Tristan had left. Stumbling backwards, he tried to reset his position, but the Diemon continued to advance, following up the first kick with another directed towards the same spot. J.J. winced at the second blow, but as the Diemon readied a third, he brought his sword down and slashed at the beast's thigh. This opened a new gash on the Diemon's skin, another angry orange line opening up as the Diemon let out a roar of pain.

J.J. scrambled back, wincing at the pain shooting through his leg as he held his sword out in front of him in a fencer's stance. The Diemon likewise began limping a bit as the two circled each other, watching for openings. J.J. suddenly heard Tristan's voice in his mind yelling at him not to hesitate, and he suddenly rushed forward, trying to initiate an attack. As he got in range, however, the dark creature opened its mouth, and J.J. skidded to a halt as a fireball erupted from his gullet. J.J. threw himself to the ground as the heat of the fireball washed over him, and he let out a frightened yell, closing his eyes tightly as fear gripped him.

A moment later, the heat passed and he opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder at the flames flickering on the asphalt. He could feel his heart pounding, and his mouth had gone dry as he stared at the fire, eyes wide with fear. Suddenly, he was back in that chamber beneath the library, lying on the ground covered in oil, as the flames spread towards him. He could still feel the raw terror that the fire had inspired in him as it rushed towards him. The thought that he was going to be burned alive, screaming in pain as the flames covered his body, cooking his flesh….

J.J. suddenly snapped back to reality, looking back up at the monster sneering at him on the ground. It lifted one foot up to stomp on him, but thankfully J.J.'s reflexes were faster than his rational mind. He slashed the monster's leg again, taking advantage of the monster's yell of pain to roll out of the way and clamber to his feet again. He stepped back several feet, holding his blade out in front of him again, but this time, he made no attempt to close the distance.

 _Go, you idiot!_ he screamed to himself in his head. He knew that if he kept at range, it wouldn't do him any good; the monster would just keep shooting fire at him, safely keeping him at bay with a wall of flames. However, every time he thought he had the resolve to move in, he saw the fire dancing in front of him again, and a primal fear kept him from closing the distance.

The Diemon gingerly tested its wounded leg, finding it could put weight on it, and then looked up at J.J. Noticing that his opponent wasn't closing in, the monster seemed confused at first, but quickly caught on to what was happening, and a cruel sneer crossed his face. Its mouth opened again, and J.J.'s eyes widened with fright while the rational part of his mind continued to berate himself for not pressing the attack when he had the chance.

Another fireball flew towards him, and he flung himself out of the way with a speed born of pure fear, tumbling across the ground as he did. The fire impacted a building behind him, lighting it ablaze, but J.J. didn't care about anything other than avoiding the attacks of the monster in front of him. A third blast of fire sped towards him, and he shied out of the way, letting out a timid gasp as he felt the heat of the flames as it passed near him.

"You spoke earlier of preventing me from doing as I pleased," the Diemon taunted him, folding its arms over its muscled chest. "Yet all you're doing is dodging me. I suppose that means you're not going to fight? Good, then I can finish this job and leave."

"Wh-what? No! I'm… I'll stop you!" J.J. stammered, but the Diemon scoffed at him.

"Whatever," it said, turning towards the office building that had been its original target, and it opened its mouth. J.J.'s eyes widened with horror, and he ran forward to stop the monster, who turned towards him with a sneer. As it opened its mouth, J.J. skidded to a halt, shivering with fright. The Diemon closed its mouth without doing anything, laughing mockingly at him.

"Go home. You're not going to stop me," it sneered. This enraged J.J. enough to take another step forward, but the Diemon lazily swept its arm towards him. Its fingers were coated in fire, and J.J. leapt back in fright as a wall of fire was raised between him and the Diemon. It gave him one last look of contempt before turning back to the office building and began to open its mouth once again.

J.J. began to panic as he looked down at his belt, figuring that he only had one option to put an end to this here and now. With his hand still shaking, he swept it along the D-Former in his belt, setting it spinning again, and he heard the Driver yell out, **"Critical!"** He was once again enveloped by holographic amber crystal, and the sound was enough to make the Diemon pause to look at him curiously.

This was a gamble, and J.J. knew it. The Diemon wasn't nearly as wounded as Ryan had been when he had last tried this, and while the fire-breathing monster seem to be quite as resilient as the orc was, J.J. wasn't sure how much damage a single Critical Kick was going to do. However, he also knew that he wouldn't be able to make it past the fire that the Diemon kept spewing unless he had some sort of shield protecting him. This, he reasoned, was the only way for him to get close enough to land an attack without getting burned.

 _Keep telling yourself that, coward,_ the rational part of his mind berated him. _You could just close the distance normally. You're just too afraid of the fire to do anything else right now._ J.J. ruthlessly suppressed that part of his mind as he felt strength gathering in his legs, and he let out a long, slow breath before he took a running start. Before the shield surrounding him made contact with the wall flames, he leapt into the air and began rotating, making the crystal around him spin rapidly like a die being rolled.

As if recognizing what he was about to do, the Diemon opened its mouth again with a roar of fury, letting out a constant stream of fire rather than a single fireball in an attempt to stop the figure falling towards him. J.J. could feel the heat of the flames even through the wall of the shield, and his heart began to pound with terror as visions of himself being cooked alive began to fill his head. However, he was able to see even through his fear that he was closing the distance between him and the monster, and he sped up his rotation one last time before ruthlessly bringing his leg forward in a sweeping tornado kick that connected with the monster's chest.

In the back of his mind, he recognized that his kick was too light, and as the shield dissipated and coalesced into a single pane on the monster's chest, he quickly kicked off, flying backwards away from the flames, part of him wishing that he had retreated even sooner. He felt a burning sensation, and dread filled him as he realized that his left shoulder was on fire. Hastily, he dropped his sword and began patting the flames furiously to try and put them out before they spread and did more damage. Once he did, he looked up at the Diemon, who was gasping and wheezing on one knee from the damage J.J. had done. However, while the pane on its chest spread and cracked along its body, adding more bright veins across its skin, the light soon dimmed, and the Diemon was left injured, but intact.

J.J. watched in horror as the monster slowly climbed to its feet, groaning out but smirking at him as it eyed him furiously. "Was that supposed to be some sort of final attack?" it grunted to J.J., who unconsciously began to back away from it, leaving his sword on the ground. "I'll admit, that hurt. But if that was your best attack, then I have nothing to worry about."

J.J.'s body began to quiver as more visions of him being consumed by fire filled his head. However, as the Diemon took a step towards him, it grunted in pain, clutching its chest and falling to one knee. J.J. paused, hopeful, as the Diemon looked up at him with a furiously burning gaze.

"Damn it. We'll put this fight on hold for now. I'm in no shape to continue, and neither are you. I'll leave this office alone for now, but I'll be back for it. And if I see _you_ here again, I won't waste time playing with you. I'll just torch you alive."

J.J. watched as the Diemon groaned and struggled away from the scene, limping off. He briefly considered going after it, but the primal part of his brain that was still reeling from the flames screamed at him to stand down. Slowly, he walked over to his sword and picked it up, pressing the pommel to collapse it back into its quill form again. The pen floated out of his hand and swatted him across his face with its feather. Since he was still wearing his helmet, it didn't hurt, but the message was clear. It jabbed at the diary, and J.J. slowly took it out, opening it to a blank page. The pen furiously scribbled to him, _It's one thing to drop me by accident, but don't EVER leave me on the ground like that again!_

J.J. nodded meekly as he heard someone clear his throat behind him. With a feeling of cold dread rising in his chest, J.J. slowly turned to see Tristan standing in front of him, his arms folded and a stony look on his face.

J.J. was silent for several long moments, thinking of what to say, before he softly commented, "Well… I managed to wound the Diemon. And it didn't destroy the building that it wanted-"

"So I assume you consider this a victory?" Tristan interrupted coldly. J.J. slowly lowered his gaze.

"I… barely managed to force it to retreat, and it didn't get what it wanted," J.J. muttered feebly, but even he wasn't convinced.

"Look around you, page," Tristan snapped, sweeping his arm around the area. J.J. followed the motion with his head, his eyes widening with horror as he realized the amount of damage that had been done. In avoiding the fireballs, several buildings were now engulfed in flames. Some of those that had been struck had been lucky enough to survive with only a light singeing, but others were now alight and burning. Thankfully, the police had evacuated all the people inside once the monster attack had begun, but the amount of property damage being done was astounding. Already, J.J. could hear the sirens of fire engines speeding towards the scene to try and extinguish the blazes.

"You said that you intended to protect people," Tristan continued, his voice level, but an unmistakable note of cold fury coloring his tone. "Yet that was a shameful display. You protected no one, because you were more concerned with protecting yourself. Some of that might have been excused as mere inexperience and understandable collateral damage, but that was not what I saw. All I saw was someone who was frightened by a Diemon and lost the will to fight because of his fear."

"Are you seriously telling me that you've never been afraid fighting a Diemon?!" J.J. snapped suddenly, stepping up into Tristan's face. He knew that he was in the wrong, but Tristan's words incensed him. Mostly because he knew Tristan was absolutely right.

"There's a difference between feeling fear and being influenced by it. You showed far more courage when you agreed to take notes when the Orc Diemon was attacking the city, even though you had no way to protect yourself. But now, even with the powers of Devon's diary to protect you, you behaved like a coward because you feared getting hurt. Was this not exactly what I warned you about when I was training you? Because you were afraid, and allowed yourself to be swallowed by your hesitation, you ended up doing more damage to yourself and your surroundings."

"Yeah?! Well-" J.J. began, but Tristan held up a hand to cut him off.

"Say nothing more. Anything else you say at this point will only make this worse," Tristan said coldly. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the fire trucks barreling towards the scene. He motioned for J.J. to follow him into an alley leading up to where the bike was parked.

"For now, let us depart. There is nothing more we can do here, and while I would like to pursue the Diemon, you're in no state to continue. Not with the mindset you're in. Come, let us return to Susumu's garage. Clearly, you're in need of more training," Tristan said.

"I'm not going," J.J. replied bluntly. Tristan stopped, turning to stare at him.

"Do not make your failure worse by refusing this, page," Tristan growled. "If you do not train-"

"More training isn't what I need right now," J.J. said shortly, pulling his D-Former out of his belt, powering down as he did. "This is a mental thing, and something that I need to work out on my own. I know that I screwed up today, but having you beat me up some more isn't going to help. Just… give me a little while to get my head together."

"…Very well," Tristan agreed after several moments' consideration. "I will give you one day to recover, but we will not have the luxury of more time than that. Every second you waste 'getting your head together' is another second that the Diemon could recover as well and attack somewhere else. So you _will_ resolve this problem before I see you next."

"Right," J.J. murmured, pausing one more time to look over at the burning buildings, and the streams of water being spewed from the fire trucks to combat the flames. Despite the fact that he was now standing at a safe distance, another shiver of fear ran through his body as he watched the flames climb up one of the walls. Already, he knew that his fear of fire was growing more intense. This was a problem he knew he had to address immediately, before it consumed him entirely and he was rendered incapable of fighting anymore.


	5. Session 5

**Session 5**

"…What is he doing?" came a soft voice from behind J.J. Without turning to look, he could feel Gwen's piercing blue gaze at his back, and he could tell that she was smirking at him. Nevertheless, he ignored her.

"J.J.? He's been like that for the last hour," Gary sighed, setting a glass down on the counter with a heavy clink. "I've tried poking him away from there, but he's been ignoring me."

"Why does it matter?" J.J. asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Because sitting in front of a lit fireplace, staring into it like you're hypnotized is a completely normal thing to do. What gives?" Gwen asked, coming up behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders, pretending to peer over his shoulder into the flickering flames. "Trying to become the new Seer of Delphi or something?"

"Wasn't that always a woman?" J.J. pointed out.

"Exactly. You're already perfect for the job," she quipped at him, grinning wickedly. "Seriously, what gives? And what's in your lap?"

"A book on phobias, if you must know," J.J. sighed, continuing to gaze at the fireplace. "I figured it might help me get over a fear that I've developed recently."

"What, you're afraid of fire now?" Gwen asked, though her tone was now more concerned than mocking. "What happened?"

"I nearly burned down my apartment cooking," J.J. explained, the lie coming easily to him, he noted with a pang of regret. Not that anyone in the tavern would believe that he had nearly been roasted alive in a secret chamber beneath the town library, and then had to fight a fire-breathing monster. "Fortunately, I didn't lose anything, but I almost got singed. And I haven't been able to get near my oven since then, so I'm trying to get over it with a few tips from this book."

"Uh-huh. And what does the book say?" Gwen asked, peering over his shoulder nosily, squinting at the words.

"There's a few ways to do it," J.J. explained, leaning a bit closer to the fire. He felt Gwen's hands grip his shoulders a bit more tightly to keep him from drawing too close. "I could talk to a therapist about it, but I don't exactly have time to do that."

"Psh. Like you have a busy schedule. Writing and playing board games must take up so much of your day, when you're not at the library," Gwen scoffed.

"Instead," J.J. continued, ignoring her, "the book also suggested that exposure therapy can be used to treat pyrophobia. I figured that'd be the fastest and easiest method.

"Right… and how's that working out for you?" Gwen snickered.

"Eh," J.J. admitted non-committally. "I mean, my pyrophobia's not as bad as some cases, apparently. It's not like I freak out around a lit cigarette or a candle, and even sitting this far away isn't bothering me. But when I get too close…."

To emphasize his point, J.J. leaned in a bit more, holding one hand out towards the flames. He felt the palm of his hand grow warmer, but it didn't bother him, so he leaned in a bit more. As the heat grew a bit more intense, he began to sweat, not from the intensity of the fire, but from worry. He grew queasy as he imagined the flames suddenly jumping out at him, igniting his hand, running up his arm, towards his face-!

Immediately, he jerked his hand back, letting out a shaky breath while waving his hand in the air, trying to cool it down. Behind him, Gwen gave him a look of genuine concern.

"Just… don't overdo it, alright?" she implored him. "It's good that you're trying to get over something that's bothering you, but you shouldn't make yourself sick doing it. Besides, it can't be that important to worry over, can it?"

"Not usually, no. But I'm getting hungry, and I'm not going to live on take-out for my entire life," J.J. replied with a weak smile. Gwen snorted at that, releasing his shoulders and walking away to go chat with Gary.

Turning back around, J.J. pulled out his diary and the quill, hovering the tip over a blank page so that he could make it look like he was just writing to himself. Softly, he whispered to the pen, "Any chance that I might be able to look up that Diemon's stats?"

The quill began scribbling quickly across the page, _If you know the name of the monster's form, yes, I can provide some information._

J.J. paused, considering the form of the creature that he'd been fighting. Looking up again, he gazed into the flames, feeling his mouth go dry as he did so, but he ignored it. A monster associated with fire…. His first thought was that it was a salamander, but he suspected that if that was the case, it would have a more lizard-like form. The Diemon instead looked rather human, save for the burning red eyes and the fiery veins running over its body. That also probably ruled out a dragon, he mused, though he also wasn't sure how abstract the forms could be. It could very well be a dragon, just with humanoid features. As he continued to think, however, his eyes fixated on the dancing fire before him, and he recalled the topknot on the Diemon's head. It reminded him of a samurai… or a djinn. A djinn that could control fire was….

Smiling to himself, he wrote down the word "Ifrit," letting the crimson ink stain the pages of the book for a moment before the quill took over. It began dancing furiously across the page, sketching out a rough picture of the creature that he'd seen, and then began filling in numerical stats that he could compare with his own.

When it finished, he let out a soft sigh, picking up the quill and lightly resting the feather against his chin as he gazed at the page. To his disappointment, the stats of the ifrit were rather balanced. It was slightly faster than he was, even with his boosted abilities, and its defense wasn't bad either, though he did note that it was a bit lower than his own endurance. Its physical attacking power, he noted, was rather low, though. But that hardly mattered when, under special abilities, the quill pointed out the obvious fact that it could control fire as a magical ability.

"Any weaknesses?" he murmured to the quill. "Water, I assume?"

 _Yes, water would be an effective counter to its abilities. But as it's a magical beast, only a large body of water or a powerful stream would hinder it. Anything less would be insufficient._

"And I doubt the fire department will just let me borrow a hose," he commented, sighing as he twirled the pen in his fingers. "It's not like I have any elemental abilities either. So what am I-?"

"Are you talking about that monster the news was covering?" came a voice from behind him. Startled, J.J. jumped and swung around, surprised to see Ryan standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at the book.

"I didn't even hear you!" J.J. hissed, trying to calm his heartbeat.

"You should look around more, then," Ryan replied smugly. "Especially if you're talking about this hero stuff you were doing."

"I take it the news covered what happened?" J.J. asked with a sigh.

"Yeah. I guess you didn't see the report. They're talking about how some guy in leather chased off an arson that was lighting fires downtown. I assume that was you? They made it sound like you won."

"Mm. At best, it was a draw," J.J. explained, sighing. "I was on my back foot the entire time. So now I'm trying to figure out some way to do better in the next fight. He said he would be back later, so I assume he's going to hit the same place again. I just need to come up with a strategy before then."

"And what've you figured out?" Ryan asked, stepping a bit closer to look over his shoulder.

"Well… if we're looking at stats, he's pretty balanced," J.J. explained. "He doesn't have a glaring flaw the way you did when you were in your orc form, other than his low attack. And since he can control fire, that's not really a weakness, especially if I can't get close. He can just keep me at range, and I'll have to keep dodging to keep from getting burned."

"How much do the stats matter?" Ryan asked, tilting his head. "It doesn't seem to be a very clear system."

"What do you mean?" J.J. asked.

"Well, like, my orc form was a lot stronger than you, but if that's the case, why didn't a single punch knock you out? Maybe you're focusing too much on the numbers."

"Maybe," J.J. admitted. "But they're a good guideline for what both me and my opponent can do. I'd still feel better if my own stats were higher, especially my defense, since his ability to control fire… scares me, honestly. And according to this diary, I don't have any more stat points to spend."

"Well… what about if you just changed your stats entirely, then?" Ryan suggested. J.J. stared at him as he explained, "You use your D-former to get into that armored form of yours, right? And you have my D-former as well. What if you used my D-former instead of yours? Wouldn't that give you the same stats as my orc form?"

J.J. gaped at Ryan, stunned by the idea (and slightly annoyed that he hadn't thought of it), before whispering to the diary, "Is that possible?"

The quill in his hand hesitated, considering the question, before replying, _At present, no, the other D-former is incompatible with the Fantasy Driver. However, using this diary's ability to copy data, it may be possible to create a facsimile using the data obtained from the orc stat page and rerouting it through the other available D-former. In short, a variation of the orc form with similar stats may be possible, though it will take time for this system to fully integrate this idea._

"How long would that take?" J.J. asked, a hint of hope entering his voice.

 _Hours. And it is unclear what the final result would be. I will attempt to integrate Ryan's D-former, however, if that is your desire. Place it in the new slot along the spine of this book._

J.J. turned the book over and saw that a new hole had appeared in the spine of the book, the size of a D-former. He pushed the jewel into the slot until he heard it click, and the diary snapped shut. J.J. blinked in surprise, and briefly tried to pull the book open, but it remained tightly closed, as if he had fastened it with a lock.

"Guess that means I can't rely on the book for a while to strategize," J.J. sighed.

"I think that's for the best," Ryan commented. "Like I said, I think you're focusing too much on stats. You remember that game where you threw us up against a troll that was three levels higher than any of us? You warned us not to fight it, saying that we would definitely die if we tried, and yet we were still able to bring it down because of a few good rolls.'

"Yeah, but I'm not able to rely on four nat-twenties to save me," J.J. chuckled. "But you're right. Numbers aren't everything, especially in reality. In fact… I'll go look into something else as well," J.J. said, pushing himself up.

"Where're you going?" Ryan asked.

"The ifrit said he intended to hit the same building again, so I already know where he's gonna be. If I scout out the area while it's safe, maybe I can figure out a way to use the terrain as well. At this point, I'll take any advantage that I can get."

"Oh, like that time we used scrying against the bandit army to figure out where they were going to position themselves?" Ryan grinned.

"Exactly," J.J. nodded. "Thanks for the ideas, Ryan. Especially using your D-former. I never would have considered that. If I beat this ifrit because of that idea, I'll buy you a drink."

"Really?" Ryan asked hopefully, his eyes brightening. "Will you buy me a beer?!"

"Soda. I will buy you a soda," J.J. clarified firmly. He grinned as Ryan pouted at him, tossing the boy a grateful wave as he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out the door.

* * *

A short time later, J.J. parked his motorcycle in the same parking garage as before, then made his way down the stairs to look around the area. Already, he could make out the figures of police officers still patrolling the area, hunting for hints as to the identity of the ifrit. There was a small crowd gathered outside of the police tape, mostly reporters trying desperately to get the attention of the police to try and ask them questions, but none of the officers were paying them any mind. J.J. slipped into the crowd easily, blending in and using the push of reporters to let him flow towards the police tape, where hopefully he could get a better view of the area.

Presently, he found himself at the front of the crowd, with a relatively clear view of the scene. Now that he was calmer, he was catching sight of things that he had missed before. There was a fountain outside of the building that he might have used for a bit of cover to regain his breath in the middle of a fight; while the water was nowhere near enough to douse a fireball, he could have ducked behind it for a moment, as he doubted a fireball could have done enough damage to the stone to utterly shatter it. Same thing for the pillars under the buildings lining the streets. While he had been worried about collateral damage, the fireballs that had hit stone had simply left scorch marks. The pillars would have been a good spot to pause for a moment when he'd had fireballs lobbed at him.

He also noticed things that could have made the battle worse for him. He noticed a scorch mark on a wall that was only a few inches above a parked car. That must have been one of the spots where he had ducked, he realized. If the fireball had hit the car behind him, it might have ignited the gas tank and exploded. Would that have been enough to kill him? The thought caused another shudder to run through his body as he once again had visions of himself rolling around on the ground, screaming and coated in flames. Shaking his head, he forced himself to dispel those thoughts, instead simply making a note to be careful around vehicles from now on.

As he continued to scan the area, his gaze fell on something on one of the street corners, and his eyes widened. Of course, he thought to himself… now that he saw it, the solution was stupidly obvious. A slow grin spread across his face as new strategies began to form in his mind. If that ifrit attacked again, he had an idea on how to do some major damage.

"Alright, I need everyone to leave!" a somewhat familiar voice called out. J.J. peered over the head of one of the reporters, grateful for his tall build, and noticed that it was the sergeant that he had saved before ordering the crowd to disperse. "You've got your stories! We have more work to do, and when we're done here, we'll be happy to provide you with more information!"

Some of the reporters protested, but J.J. was willing to comply, since he didn't even have journalism as an excuse to investigate. Briefly, he wondered if he should see about taking up a freelance job writing for a newspaper if he was going to continue fighting Diemons; it would give him an excuse to hang around crime scenes and ask the police questions. However, he immediately and ruthlessly shot that idea down in his head. He despised having to write under someone else. He'd once had a job with the school paper in high school to try and improve his writing, and it had been a disaster. The editor of the paper had been an idiot who not only had no idea how to run a decent story, but ignored obvious spelling and grammar mistakes that J.J. could spot from a mile off. When he'd pointed them out, the editor had bluntly told him to shut up and write what he was told. That experience had soured every feeling he had towards journalism.

Instead of hanging around, J.J. made his way down the street towards the river, where several empty park benches lined the waterside. J.J. took a seat on one of the empty ones, glancing around for a moment to confirm that the street was relatively empty. To his relief, the area seemed to be deserted. He sighed as he sank into the hard wood of the bench and reached into his pocket, pulling out the diary. Briefly, he turned it over in his hands, examining it, before trying half-heartedly to pry it open again. The diary, however, remained fastened shut, as if the pages were stuck together with super-glue. Despite himself, a slight smile crossed his lips. He'd figured that wouldn't work, but it didn't hurt to try.

Suddenly, from his left, a muffled scream filled the air. J.J. shot to his feet immediately, feeling the now-familiar rush of adrenaline as he glanced around, wondering if there were any Shards in the area or if the ifrit was attacking again. Cursing under his breath, his heart began to race with panic as he looked down at the diary. If he couldn't transform when he needed too…!

As he was panicking, however, he saw a figure emerge from his left, holding up his hands with a wry smile. The man was of Southeast Asian descent and seemed to be in his mid-thirties. He was wearing a loose business suit that was heavily wrinkled, as if he had fallen asleep in it. His short brown hair was likewise unkempt, hanging around his head in a sort of loose halo, and his dark eyes were bloodshot. J.J. began backing away from him slowly.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said quickly. "I swear, I thought I was alone! I didn't see you sitting there! I wasn't trying to scare you!"

"You definitely managed to, though!" J.J. snapped, still backing away from the man, who stopped approaching him.

"Right, sorry. I know that was weird. That's just a stress technique that my therapist taught me to try and deal with my anger issues," the strange man said with an apologetic grin.

"And you couldn't, I dunno… go home and scream into a pillow or something?" J.J. asked bluntly, narrowing his eyes.

"I… don't have a home to go back to right now," the man replied reluctantly. "My wife kicked me out about a week ago."

"Oh," J.J. said, suddenly feeling slightly guilty. "Sorry, I had no idea-"

"No, no, it's fine. You couldn't have known," the man said easily, sinking onto a park bench with a sigh. J.J. edged away from him, putting a good forty feet between him and the stranger. "It's just been the latest thing in a string of problems that I've had recently. Listen, do you… mind if I vent for a little bit? I know you don't know me, but I feel like I just need to let my problems out to someone who can listen, since I can't exactly afford a therapist right now either."

"I… guess, sure?" J.J. said uneasily, glancing around. Out of the corner of his eye, he made a note of the nearest alleyway, and he saw that there were a couple people out that way. If he needed to run and disappear into a crowd, if this guy turned out to be a lunatic and decided to attack him, he figured he was fast enough to do that.

"Thanks," the guy said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He brought one to his lips, then brought out a lighter and snapped it to life. J.J. stared at the flame as it met the cigarette, and he felt a bit better when he noted that the little didn't evoke the same fear as a roaring fire. Perhaps there was still hope that he could get over his pyrophobia.

The stranger took a long drag of the cigarette before exhaling slowly with a look of utter relief. "Damn, that's delicious," he sighed, a blissful look on his face. "You have no idea how long it's been since I had one of these. I tried to quit smoking, but with everything that's happened lately, it's been so tempting to pick it up again."

"You said your wife kicked you out?" J.J. asked cautiously, as if he was stepping around a landmine. He wasn't sure how sensitive a topic that was. "Is that what's got you stressed enough to… go shouting at a river?"

"That's one of the things, yeah," the man sighed, gazing at the cigarette with a frown as the smoke lazily drifted into the air in front of him. "Or rather, it's one of the things that's a product of all the stress I've been under. Everything in my life's just seemed to collapse at once."

"How do you mean?" J.J. asked, taking a seat on another park bench, leaving an empty one between him and the man for his own safety. The man clearly noticed, but didn't seem offended.

"Well, I managed to get myself fired from my job a few weeks ago, for starters. Used to be fairly high-up, a manager in a mid-level company, but I'd had complaints from some of the staff about harassment."

"Like towards women…?" J.J. asked uncomfortably, but the man shook his head quickly.

"No, no! I wasn't chasing skirts or anything! But I would get on my guys a bit too hard for the liking of the executives. They didn't understand that we had to push numbers, and that I was working them so hard so that we could meet our deadlines. I had a habit of… raising my voice…." He hesitated, then shook his head. "No, I'll be honest. I used to scream at them when they wouldn't make their deadlines. Consistently, mind you. I did allow a mistake here and there, but when they just kept _failing_ , week after week…!"

"I mean, people are prone to failure," J.J. said, trying to play devil's advocate.

"They do, but it always fell on my head," the man sighed. "And yet, they didn't seem to care in the slightest. Always coasting by, never seeming to take anything seriously… so yeah, I got angry at them and started yelling. And they did show a little improvement, for a while anyways. But then they started complaining to management that I was getting out of hand. They talked to me about it, I calmed down a bit, but then my guys started slacking off again. I mean… what was I supposed to do?!" the man said, starting to get a bit hysterical. "Just talking to them wasn't working! And then…!"

"Easy, bud, easy," J.J. said soothingly.

"Sorry," he replied, taking a slow breath to calm himself. "After a while, I wound up getting fired. When my wife found out about that, she began screaming at me too. Saying I wasn't pulling my own weight around the house either. Nevermind that I was working twelve-hour days to support her and her damned shopping sprees. And in return, what did I get? A cold dinner, a cold bed, and a cold glare every morning telling me that I wasn't doing enough."

"Yeah, that's rough," J.J. agreed. Obviously, he didn't have any context to say anything else.

"But you know the worst part of it all?" the man laughed. "I know that it was my fault. At least, people's reactions to me were."

"What do you mean?" J.J. asked, genuinely surprised. He had fully expected the man to devolve into a rant about how none of this was his fault, that this was the fault of everyone around him. "Sounds like they were taking advantage of you, from the way you were telling it."

"They were, yeah, and it's not like someone should just lay back and take it when they're being screwed with," the man agreed. "But what it boils down to is the fact that I couldn't control my temper, and I know it. I kept getting angry and letting it out on everyone else around me. At the end of the day, I only have myself to blame. And I know that."

Reaching into his jacket, the man pulled out a small black object. J.J. peered a bit closer at it, and then he let out a soft gasp. The man was holding a black D-former between his fingers, staring at it with a mixture of revulsion and desire.

Cautiously, J.J. slipped his hand into his pocket, his heart starting to pound. He recognized the man's hungry look as the same one Ryan had when he'd been using his own D-former. J.J. pushed his fingers against the pages of the book, testing to see if it was done processing Ryan's D-former If this guy was about to turn into a Diemon right in front of him, he needed to be able to transform. To his chagrin, the book remained firmly shut, no matter how hard he tried to pry the pages apart. He slowly slipped his hand out of his pocket and swallowed, figuring that the best course of action, then, was to keep from doing anything that would give the man a reason to use his D-former.

"I actually recognized that I needed to calm down," the man commented, oblivious to J.J.'s actions. His voice was getting a bit distant, and he had a far-off look in his eyes. "About two weeks before I got fired, I was approached by a masked man wearing black, who told me that he had a way to help me curb my anger. He gave me this thing and told me that when I got angry, I should just concentrate on it. Of course, I didn't believe him at first, but when I almost flew off the handle after a meeting, I figured that I didn't have anything to lose and may as well try it out. It did help for a little while, honestly. It's how I was able to calm down after my first talk with the executives. Things were improving, both at work and at home. But… after using it, things would get a little hazy. I do remember feeling… better. Like I'd just let out all my frustrations at once. What began to worry me, though, was that every time I used it, it would have less effect. The first time, I was completely calm for about three days. The next time, it was maybe a day or so. Then it was only for a few hours. And in the meantime, when I got angry, it became more intense. I went from just being irritated to feeling blind rage at the most minor things. I remember almost flipping a desk when someone took too long in the bathroom. I nearly punched someone when they didn't hold a door open for me."

The man smiled weakly over at J.J. "I'm scared," he said softly. "I don't know when the next time I'll snap will be. I don't know who I'll hurt, or what I'll do. I can barely even remember anything from the last time I used this damn thing. All I remember was feeling blind fury, and then a pain in my chest, and I woke up under a bridge. I just… I don't even know what's going on anymore!"

J.J. gazed at the man with a look of pity. "You mean, you're using that thing because you wanted to do better for those around you?"

"Yeah," the man replied with a sigh. "I've always had a temper, and I felt like I'd tried everything else to control it. I didn't realize how much worse using this would make things. And I feel like an idiot now for thinking there was an easy solution to controlling my anger."

"The intent behind it was noble, though," J.J. praised him. "Now it's just a matter of figuring out a way to quit using it."

"I guess. You don't… want it, do you?" the man asked suspiciously, suddenly turning to eye J.J. "Because if you're trying to take it from me-"

"No! Don't worry, that's all yours, bud!" J.J. said quickly, remembering how Ryan had reacted when he'd suggested just giving up the D-former. "But… if there's some way I can help…?"

"I don't think anyone can help me now," replied the man, a sad smile on his face. "But thank you for listening to me. That was really kind of you. I don't think I ever asked your name, by the way."

"J.J.," he replied, approaching the man and holding his hand out with a smile.

"Thanks again, then, J.J.," he said, taking the writer's hand and shaking it firmly. "I'm Agni. Listen… do yourself a favor and stay away from this area for the next day or so."

"Are you planning on doing something?" J.J. asked suspiciously. Agni shook his head quickly.

"No, I swear. At least, I don't intend to. But… I always got angriest whenever I caught sight of my former workplace. And while I don't intend to do anything myself, I just… you're a good guy, and I don't want to see you get caught in the crossfire of whatever happens."

"I see. Then thanks for the advice," J.J. said with a strained smile. Agni nodded, turning to leave. Briefly, J.J. considered calling for the cops, to have them grab Agni before he could do any more damage. However, if Agni really was on a hair-trigger, the last thing he needed was someone to set him off, and J.J. knew that calling for the police would seem like a betrayal. He would probably turn into a Diemon right there, and J.J. still wasn't sure how long it would be before he could transform again to fight. Even if the cops did arrest him, J.J. also had lingering worries about the withdrawal symptoms that Tristan had mentioned, and what might happen if Agni's D-former was forcibly taken from him. No, the best thing to do right now was let Agni walk away and keep an eye out for when he next assumed his Diemon form. All he could do in the meantime was be ready for when the other shoe inevitably dropped.

As Agni disappeared around the corner, he felt something buzzing in his pocket, and for a moment, he wondered if it was his phone, before remembering that he'd kept the diary in his right-hand pocket. Pulling it out, the quill wiggled its way out of the book binding and nudged open the diary to a new page.

 _My apologies for taking so long. I was aware that you were in contact with the Diemon, but I prioritized completing your initial request. Especially since it seemed as though you had the situation in hand. Well done for not unnecessarily initiating conflict._

"I've never been the sort to pick a fight anyways," J.J. shrugged. "So how was the experiment?"

 _Successful. Observe,_ the diary implored him, turning to a page behind his initial stats sheet. J.J. took a moment to browse it, frowning to himself. The diary noticed his silence.

 _I apologize if this is unsatisfactory, but nothing of this sort has ever been attempted,_ it insisted, almost petulantly. J.J. chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, I'm not upset, nor am I criticizing. This is both more and less than I'd hoped for. Not as slow the orc but not as strong either. Still, that's better than what I was working with before. Thank you for doing this."

 _Do you wish to clad yourself with these new abilities and pursue the Diemon?_ The quill paused in midair, turning to him almost expectantly, like a kid who had a new toy to show their parent. J.J., however, shook his head with a light sigh.

"I'd like to train a bit first. This is a new style for me, and I want to get as much practice in while I've got the chance. Besides, Agni's not going anywhere."

 _You seem confident in that assertion. Why?_ the quill inquired. J.J. smiled faintly.

"Because he said he wouldn't. And I believe him. So, let's get some work done," J.J. said firmly, snapping the diary shut and jogging to the garage where his bike was parked.

* * *

It was getting late in the afternoon when J.J. pulled up to Susumu's garage. He could see Susumu in the back of his workshop, fiddling with another motorcycle, while Tristan watched him, clearly fascinated by the inner workings of the machine. When J.J. appeared, however, his almost childlike expression darkened, and he folded his arms as he slowly wandered towards the author.

"Have you had enough time to 'get your head together?'" Tristan mocked him. J.J. ignored the tartness in the knight's voice, dismounting from the bike and setting his helmet on the seat before walking quickly towards Tristan.

"I need you to teach me how to swing a weapon properly," J.J. said firmly. Tristan was about to respond with a biting retort, but stopped when he caught the determined expression on J.J.'s face.

"That's a good look in your eyes, page," Tristan remarked. "Have you conquered your fear of fire?"

"No," J.J. said firmly, and Tristan's face fell. "But that doesn't matter. Someone told me that they need help, and I'm not just going to sit by when there's something I can do for them. And to do that, I need you to train me in a new style."

"I see," Tristan said skeptically. "And what do you wish to be trained in? Keep in mind, you have not yet mastered even the most basic technique of one style, so you'll understand if I'm hesitant to teach you something new. Particularly given your lack of enthusiasm up to this point. Do you have a reason?"

"This," J.J. said, flipping open his diary and showing Tristan the new page. The knight's eyes widened as he glanced over the new entry. He silently stared at it for several long moments before turning his attention back to J.J.

"Interesting. Devon certainly never used the diary's abilities like this. What prompted this burst of inspiration?"

"Honestly, I wish I could take credit for it, but it was Ryan's idea," J.J. admitted with a slight smile. "All I did was ask the diary if it could modify the data, and…."

"Truly ingenious. But as I said, this will not be easy. If you are not fully committed to training for the next few hours, you will learn nothing. All you will do is tire yourself out. You cannot complain about being tired or sore, for that will waste precious seconds we could use improving your technique. Are you prepared to undergo a harsh training regimen?"

"I already said I'm ready," J.J. replied firmly, walking to take a few steps away from Tristan, his eyebrows furrowed with a look of stony focus. "Either pick up that pipe and start teaching me, or I'll find an online tutorial instead."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, J.J. caught the hint of a smile on Tristan's face. For the next hour and a half, Tristan drilled J.J. in a few simple swings using a two-handed grip, as opposed to the one-handed style he had been learning up to that point. He began by teaching J.J. the attacks against open air, and then against himself, where he could block them. Once he was satisfied that J.J. had a decent grasp on them against a stationary opponent, Tristan began moving, and then attacking in turn to teach J.J. how to block as well.

Eighty minutes into the training, J.J. was panting with exhaustion and once again covered in bruises from where he had failed to block a strike. His jacket was laying over a lawn chair, and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. Tristan stood across from him, and for a moment J.J. was struck by how eerily similar this scene was to just before the mess with Agni had started. This time, however, there was one key difference.

"Come now! Attack again, page!" Tristan shouted at him. J.J. immediately charged forward, not bothering to hesitate any longer. The pipe he was holding clanged loudly against Tristan's own, and he grit his teeth as he pushed against Tristan, trying to overpower him. The knight smirked, pushing him off easily, using his far superior strength, but this time, J.J. moved with the counter, suddenly surrendering a bit of ground. Tristan was caught off-guard and over-extended, and J.J. immediately brought the pipe down in a harsh two-handed swing aimed at Tristan's shoulder. The knight barely managed to block in time, both pipes vibrating harshly, before J.J. let out a cry and dropped his weapon as he felt a blister on his hand tear open under the metal.

Tristan stood over him as J.J. reached down to pick up the weapon, expecting a reprimand. To his surprise, however, the knight reached down and picked up the pipe for him, handing it over with a nod. "Much better," he praised J.J. "If I didn't have about two decades of experience on you, that would have been a good blow. And more importantly, you have the right mindset for a battle now. Well done. Rest for a little while. We can't have you overworking yourself when a Diemon could attack at any minute."

J.J. smiled, despite himself, and walked over to the lawn chair, falling into it with a sigh. He was just as tired and sore as he had been a few days ago, but there was a certain satisfaction that dulled all the aches in his body. He gratefully accepted the sports drink Susumu handed him, taking a slow drink of it, before looking up at Tristan.

"Thank you," J.J. said. "You know… you're being a lot more complimentary today."

"I will give praise when it is earned," Tristan said simply. "I do not expect immediate perfection, but I will commend improvement. And I must admit, while your technique is still sorely lacking, you learn quickly. I would rather train you than any former member of my garrison, as you are less stubborn and more open to accepting my advice. You are a poor warrior, but you are a good student."

"Thank… you? I think?" J.J. said. Susumu shrugged from behind Tristan, so J.J. decided to just accept the compliment, backhanded as it was.

Before they could continue, J.J. felt his diary buzzing again, and he pulled it out and allowed the quill to push open a blank page. _The ifrit is active once more,_ it explained, at which point J.J. nodded and snapped the book shut, grunting softly as he pushed himself up and grabbed his jacket.

"Right, time for round two," he commented, walking over to his bike while stretching to try and ease some of the pain in his muscles. "Tristan, are you coming?" he added, shooting a glance at the knight.

"I would indeed like to see the fruits of my training," Tristan agreed. J.J. glanced over at Susumu as a silent invitation, but the mechanic laughed.

"Come on, you know I'm not a fighter. I'm just here to keep your bike in working order. And apparently to let you two spar in my front yard," he added, before shrugging. "Good luck."

J.J. nodded, starting up the bike once Tristan was on as well, and he immediately sped off to the office building, which he was becoming far too familiar with, he thought to himself. He parked next to a curb, noticing that the immediate area had already been evacuated. Apparently, the police had caught on to what a threat the Diemon were and how ineffective they had been during the last fight, and had instead opted to get everyone out of the way. "Kudos to them," J.J. said softly as he stepped off the bike.

At the end of the street, he saw the ifirit facing the office building, simply staring at it, as though it was savoring the moment before it burned the place to the ground. J.J. immediately grabbed his diary and snapped it open to his stat page, while Tristan stood behind him.

"You have no reason to fear this opponent now, page," Tristan said firmly. "Simply focus on the fight in front of you."

"Right," J.J. said simply, holding the diary up to his left cheek. In a clear voice intended to get the ifrit's attention, he called out across the empty street, "Henshin!"

His Fantasy Driver once more appeared around his waist, and J.J. slotted the book and spun the D-former just as the ifrit was turning towards him. **"Adventure: Begin!"** shouted the book as he was surrounded by the now-familiar amber jewel, trumpet notes filling the air as the light faded and he stood before the ifrit in his armored form. Holding out his hand, his quill flew into his palm, and J.J. clicked it once to extend it out into its sword form.

"Alea iacta est," he murmured to himself, as if to reassure himself that he had to do this, as the ifrit smirked at the brown figure running towards him.

"Ah, the coward has returned for another match?" it mocked him. "I gave you the chance to retreat, but I guess fools never learn."

Before J.J. could get into the clearing, it suddenly lobbed a fireball at him. Fear gripped him as the burning flames sped towards him, but J.J. grit his teeth and leapt to the right. He could still feel the heat as it passed him, but he forced himself to steady his heartbeet and continue running towards the ifrit, which surprised the Diemon. It opened its mouth and breathed another fireball towards him, but J.J. again rolled out of the way, forcing himself to press forward despite the fear rising in his chest.

Once he was within a few feet of the Diemon, it suddenly roared, and a circle of flame appeared between it and J.J., who skidded to a halt, panting. He felt fear gripping him as he stared into the flames, while the ifrit smirked, turning its back to him. Glancing down, he saw his left hand shaking, and he flexed it once, taking a deep breath, before staring at the flames. With a yell, he ran through the circle, ignoring the blistering heat that surrounded him, and the ifrit turned in time to cry out in pain as J.J. stepped in and slashed the monster across the chest, opening a wide gash on its obsidian skin.

"You shouldn't turn your back on your opponent," J.J. hissed, trying to sound more confident than he felt. Before the ifrit could respond, he pressed the attack, thrusting forward and opening a gash across its shoulder as the ifrit tried to sway out of the way. Clearly caught off-guard by the sudden onslaught, J.J. continued pressing, getting two more cuts in across the flaming monster's stomach and ribs before it caught his arm. Sneering, Agni heated his hand, and J.J. let out a cry of pain, wrenching his hand out of the burning grasp of the monster before stumbling backwards, feeling his back against the flames.

Enraged, the ifrit continued swinging at him in close-quarters combat, while J.J. backpedaled, parrying one punch while ducking under another. He suddenly tripped and fell to the ground, but was able to hold onto his sword as the ifrit stood over him, triumphant.

"Now you die," it hissed, cocking its flaming fist back and leaning down to punch him. As it did, though, J.J. suddenly smirked from behind his helmet and rolled out of the way, slashing behind him as he did. The hard metal of his blade cut cleanly through the fire hydrant that he had allowed himself to be backed towards, having noticed it earlier while surveying the place. It was a mistake of the ifrit to announce where he was going to fight again, J.J. thought with a grin as the water sprayed across the monster's body. He should have never had this much time to come up with an effective strategy.

The ifrit screamed in pain as the stream of water doused its body, and the air immediately began to cloud with a thick layer of steam. The monster stumbled backwards, wiping drops water from its body as the lava-like lines began to dim. As J.J. watched, he decided to put the second part of his plan into action.

He put his thumb on the red D-former now sticking out of the spine of his book, dragging it along the faceted face of the jewel, making it spin in its slot. The regal voice of his diary cried out, **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** J.J. was once again engulfed in a holographic jewel, though the light was crimson rather than amber, and instead of a trumpet, the air was filled with the sound of war drums. As the die spun around him, he felt his armor shifting on his body, taking on a new shape, while he felt his sword grew heavier. Once the spinning stopped, he glanced to his right towards a plate-glass window and caught sight of his new form.

His brown leather armor had been replaced by heavy red lamellar armor made of riveted plates that vaguely reminded him of Viking armor, with his driver still wrapped around his waist over it. The armor extended to his thighs, providing him with more protection, but also weighing him down. Red bracers covered his wrists, while his boots now likewise were protected by crimson greaves. His helmet was also now red instead of brown, with the two book-like rhombuses that made up his "eyes" now glinting like rubies. He also sported small, tightly curled ram's horns on either side of his helmet, making him look even more like a Viking. In his hand, his feather-like sword had morphed into a heavy silver warhammer, a full six feet long, with a rounded head and a thick spike on the back to allow him to deliver both blunt and piercing attacks as he needed. Overall, he felt much more confident that this form could both take and deal out punishment compared to his base form.

Turning back around, he began walking through the mist. His body felt much heavier, but also much sturdier, and he lifted the hammer and rested it over his shoulders with ease, carrying it with one hand while he strode towards the wounded ifrit. He knew he wouldn't be able to move very fast, which irked him, as he preferred having more speed at his disposal, but for this stage of the fight, what he needed was to be able to plant his feet and absorb damage while dishing it out.

As he appeared through the mist, the ifrit's eyes widened in both fear and surprise, and with a roar, he threw a fireball at J.J. Behind his visor, he grit his teeth as the flames washed over him, and he let out a soft grunt as he felt an impact like a heavy book being dropped on his chest, but otherwise he didn't seem to have suffered much damage. He continued striding slowly towards the Diemon, apparently unhindered by the attack. The ifrit stared in horror and lobbed another fireball at him, but once again, to little effect.

Once he was within range, J.J. suddenly let out a yell as he gripped the hammer with both hands and swung it around, the heavy head of the hammer impacting with the shoulder of the Diemon, who cried out and stumbled backwards from the impact. Continuing with the momentum of the swing, J.J. spun in a circle and attacked again, this time striking with a heavy overhanded swing that the ifrit managed to dodge. The hammer collided heavily with the ground, leaving a pothole in the pavement. J.J., however, took two steps and once again brought the hammer around for a third strike which collided with the ifrit's ribs, sending it sprawling across the pavement.

Looking up, it opened its mouth and breathed a stream of fire at J.J., who simply stepped back and let the fire pass in front of his face. Gazing into the flames, he felt his heart racing, but he ruthlessly suppressed the urge to run, and as he slowly looked down into the ifrit's burning eyes, an expression of panic crossed the Diemon's face.

"This… this isn't right!" it screamed at him, clambering to its feet, both hands alight with flame. "You're supposed to be afraid of fire! Why aren't you afraid?!"  
"I am," J.J. said simply, resuming his slow, inexorable advance on the ifrit. "But all I see before me is a confused and terrified man asking for help. How could I possibly be afraid of someone who's so afraid of himself?"

"You-!" it shouted, but the yell was silenced as J.J. once more delivered a hard blow across its stomach, making it double up, before following up with a hard overhead strike that sent the Diemon to the ground, groaning in pain.

J.J. stood over the Diemon and once more put his thumb over the red D-former, spinning it again. **"Critical!"** it shouted, and J.J. was briefly surrounded by another crimson die before the light coalesced into the head of his hammer. He felt a rush of strength in his arms and back, and he brought the hammer behind his head while the ifrit looked up at him in horror. With a yell, he brought the hammer down on the ifrit all at once, striking it with all his might. As he pulled his hammer away, a glowing red circle was left on the black skin of the ifrit, and as he watched, scarlet cracks began to expand outward like glass fracturing, overriding the orange veins on its body. J.J. turned around and pulled his diary from his belt, noticing that as he did, his red warrior form was immediately replaced by his brown base form. That was something to note, that he couldn't use his diary in his alternate form without canceling it. Reminding himself to look into that later, he turned to the ifrit's page. He watched the Diemon's health bar slowly dwindle to zero, at which point he heard a cry behind him as its form fractured, leaving Agni laying helpless on the ground.

J.J. snapped his book shut as the ifrit vanished, before turning to Agni and walking over to him. Beside him, he noticed that Agni was laying on a piece of paper like the one he had gotten from Ryan. Reaching down, he grabbed the page and put it in his book, where it was magically fastened to the bindings. He then knelt down and held his hand out to Agni, who looked up at him blearily.

"I… is it over?" he murmured groggily. J.J. nodded once, helping the man to his feet, who groaned in pain.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by police, who were pointing their guns at Agni and J.J., the latter of whom immediately stepped in front of the broken man to shield him from any gunfire. However, Agni shook his head, putting his hand on J.J.'s shoulder with a grunt.

"No… it's alright," he murmured. "I'll go peacefully. Here… take this," he added, slipping his black D-former into J.J.'s gloved hand. "Since you're using them as well, maybe that'll help you prevent anyone else from becoming like me." J.J. was about to protest when the officers demanded that Agni lay on the ground. J.J. released him as the man readily complied. The officers surged forward to arrest him as sergeant from before approached J.J. with a grateful nod.

"Thanks for your help," he said gruffly. "We weren't properly introduced last time. I'm Sgt. Eaton, of the Marville Police Department. This is the second time you've pulled us from the fire… literally," he said looking around the area. "Mind if I ask you your name?"

"I'd… rather not say," J.J. admitted reluctantly. "I don't want that kind of attention."

"Mm. That's not how we usually do things, son, but I won't pry… for now. Can you at least give us a name we can refer to you by?"

"Ah…." J.J. hesitated, when he heard Tristan call out from a few feet away.

"Call him Kamen Rider Page!" he yelled. J.J. glared at the knight, lowering his head slightly so that there was no doubt about his annoyance at being referred to by that name.

"That's not-!" he began, but Sgt. Eaton shrugged.

"Then thanks for your help, Kamen Rider Page. Whatever that means," he muttered under his breath. "If there's anything I can do-"

"Yeah, there is one thing," J.J. said suddenly, nodding over to where Agni was being led away. "Try to make sure the judge goes easy on him. From everything I saw, he wasn't in full control of his actions. Treat him like he was under the influence of something, because he basically was."

"Can you give us more than that?" the sergeant asked, but J.J. shook his head.

"I don't know enough myself to give you more details. But this is the second time this has happened now, and both times, the people didn't seem to know what they were doing. So just… go easy on him, please," J.J. asked.

"It's going to be hard. He'll likely get arson and malicious endangerment. But despite all of this, thanks to your actions, no one was killed, so we'll see what we can do."

"Thank you," J.J. said simply. "Now, mind if I head out? I'd really rather not be here when the reporters arrive."

"Normally, I'd take you in for questioning, but in this case, I'll make an exception. Especially since I doubt we could bring you in if you didn't want us to," the sergeant admitted ruefully. "Just do me a favor and keep an eye out in case one of these incidents happens again."

"I will," J.J. agreed, turning and walking through the growing crowd while Tristan tailed him. He ignored any attempts from people to talk to him, instead climbing onto his bike with Tristan and pulling away as the fire department and reporters began arriving. He'd done all he could, he thought to himself. Now all he could do was hope that Agni could be forgiven. With that, he started up the bike and drove off, weaving through the growing crowd of traffic.

* * *

A few days later, J.J. winced as he collapsed in a lawn chair in Susumu's front yard, rubbing his sore wrist, while Tristan looked at him with pitiless eyes.

"You may have improved, page, but I would still not call you a good warrior," he said simply, while Susumu handed him a bottle of water.

"Why did I want to learn blocking, again?" he muttered.

"You were the one that said you would be unable to dodge when using the Warrior Class, as you call it," Tristan pointed out. "But you are still frail, and I do not intend to ease the strength of my attacks simply because you cannot cope with someone more powerful than you. A real opponent would not hold back either."

"Maybe I should spar with you wearing Warrior Class armor, then. See how you like being out-muscled," J.J., snarled, but shut up when Tristan raised an eyebrow at him.

"The reports about your fight with the ifrit are still coming in, you know," Susumu said, changing the subject while J.J. sipped the water. "People want to know all about Kamen Rider Page. How come you didn't let them interview you when you had the chance?"

"I don't want that kind of attention," J.J. sighed, resting his head back in the chair. "For one, I'm not doing this for popularity, but I also don't want people coming up to me in the street asking me to solve their problems for them.

"Yeah, but you're the writer who was complaining about not having enough people read your books. Why not take advantage of that for some free publicity?" Susumu asked him.

"…Dammit, I didn't even think of that!" J.J. muttered, prompting Susumu to break up laughing. However, J.J. then shook his head. "But no. I want people to read my books because they like my writing, not because they're interested in me because of my vigilante work."

"You mean as a Kamen Rider?" Susumu asked, needling him with a wicked grin.

"I'm not a Kamen Rider," J.J. repeated wearily.

"Right, right," Susumu waved him off. "But in the meantime, you should read the articles they're writing about you."

"I already said I don't want the publicity," J.J. insisted. When Susumu turned his back to him, however, he discreetly pulled out his phone and began browsing. Behind him, Susumu grinned cheekily.

"Hmph. I can write better than this. Maybe I _should_ get a job reporting," J.J. muttered.

"So you can write articles on yourself?" Susumu cackled.

"Oh, shut up!" J.J. sighed, pushing himself up and walking over to Tristan. "Come on, let's go another round. Before I decide to beat on Susumu instead!"

"You're welcome to try, Page," J.J. heard Susumu murmur, and as he turned, he saw the mechanic smiling faintly at him. J.J. gave him a curious look, then turned back around just in time to block a heavy attack from Tristan that dropped him to his knees.

"Never turn your back to an opponent, page!" Tristan snapped. "Weren't you the one who said that?"

"Is it too late to give up my Driver?" J.J. asked rhetorically, sighing as he once more climbed to his feet and braced himself to deflect another aggressive blow from the knight.


	6. Session 6

**Session 6**

J.J. pulled his cart of books to a halt and glanced over at one of the pews in the library, where Tristan was sitting with Rachel, reading slowly from the latest book she had assigned him. Pausing, J.J. peered over at the book and realized that it was one of Shel Silverstein's works, which brought a slight smile to his face. He had to admit, Rachel was a good teacher, and he full approved of the books she was giving Tristan. It was better than what J.J. had planned; when he had considered easy reading material, all he could think of were children's books. That certainly wasn't fair to the knight, especially considering what Tristan was giving J.J. to study so that he could learn Almencian.

Chewing on his lower lip, he once again pulled out the notepad that Tristan had given him. On the first page, he had written the Almencian alphabet. There were twenty-five runes that he had to learn, some of which were familiar – the vowels like A, E, I, and O, as well as a few consonants like B, D, and M, for example – while others were foreign to him. There were individual symbols for "th" and "sh" sounds, but the one that had baffled him most of all was that there was a symbol that looked like two d's that Tristan insisted was pronounced as "lie." Yet, when J.J. had repeated the sound back, the knight had laughed and explained that he was pronouncing it completely wrong.

Shaking his head at the memory, J.J. once again flipped the page to the short passage that Tristan had scribbled out for him. According to him, it was the first stanza of an epic poem detailing the adventures of a woman who fell in love with a serpent, and had to be rescued by a wandering prince looking for a bride. J.J. had been studying it off and on for the last few days, and he had gotten to the point where he felt that he could sound out the words without stumbling over them, but otherwise had little idea what the words meant without cheating and looking at his individual translation notes. Needless to say, picking up the Almencian language had been slow going for him.

"Mr. Wells," came a dry voice behind him, snapping J.J. out of his thoughts. He turned to see the head librarian, Mrs. Thatcher, standing with her arms folded and her eyebrow raised. Quickly, he closed the notebook and wheeled the cart over to her with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, I was just studying something," he said quickly.

"At least you weren't looking at your phone, I suppose, but I hope that notepad you were looking at said 'finish putting those books in the biography section," she said curtly. "Before you do that, though, we have a young lady who was asking for a recommendation for the next thing she should read."

"Why ask me, then?" J.J. asked, keeping his tone polite. "You know this library like the back of your hand. I'm sure you could provide a better recommendation than I could."

"She specifically asked me to pick out a fantasy book for her," Mrs. Thatcher replied. "And since you claim to be the resident expert in fantasy, I thought you would jump at the chance to flaunt your supposed knowledge of the genre."

"So you used that as an excuse to pawn her off on me," J.J. said drily, breaking his overly-polite character for a moment to get that little quip in.

"When you run the library, pawning off questions you don't want to answer is your prerogative, Mr. Wells," Mrs. Thatcher replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Now hop to it. Take the cart with you so you don't forget what you were doing."

"Yes ma'am," J.J. said evenly, grinning at her in reply. Despite their jabs at each other – or rather, because of it – J.J. rather liked working under her. Thus, he was in a good mood when he parked the cart next to one of the computer desks that had been set up against the walls and gazed down at the young woman Mrs. Thatcher had wanted him to help.

The girl in question was in her late teens, and dressed in a typical Goth fashion. She wore her straight black hair loose around her face, partially obscuring one of her piercing green eyes. Her outfit consisted of a black T-shirt with a band logo that he didn't recognize, as well as a jean skirt and a pair of black-and-white striped stockings over a pair of skating shoes. She looked up at J.J. skeptically, and he could tell as soon as she saw him that she was unimpressed with his own fashion.

"Mrs. Thatcher said that you needed a hand?" J.J. said pleasantly, bracing himself for whatever acid remark this girl was going to throw at him. To his surprise, though, her voice was so soft that he had trouble hearing her.

"I was wondering if you had any recent novels that I could look through?" she mumbled. "I don't have much money left to get them from a bookstore right now."

"Sure," J.J. said, motioning for her to follow him as he left the cart near the computers, leading her through the aisles of books towards the fiction section. "We might not have as big a selection as one of the major bookstores, but I'm sure we can find something. Mrs. Thatcher said that you were looking for something in the fantasy genre?"

The girl nodded meekly, gazing at the floor. J.J. was a touch surprised that she wasn't more confrontational, given her dress, but that old line about judging books by their covers flashed through his mind. He had to admit, her shy demeanor was somewhat endearing, even if he was tempted to hand her a microphone so that he could hear her.

"Alright, modern fantasy… have you read anything by Connor Walsh? Some of his stuff has gotten popular recently," J.J. suggested. "I rather liked his recent series about the fey. He puts a lot of detail into the worlds he creates, and-"

"He's the one that writes about the fairies, right?" the girl interrupted. J.J. nodded. "Fairies are pretty and all, but that's not my style. I was looking for modern fantasy in particular," she insisted.

J.J. slowly exhaled. Despite the girl's vague request, he mulled it over while keeping his annoyance in check. Hanging around Tristan had done wonders for his patience, he mused. He turned her words around in his mind, before realizing what she meant. "Do you mean urban fantasy?" he asked. "Like, modern settings with werewolves and vampires hanging around Los Angeles or whatever?"

The girl nodded once, and J.J. smiled tightly. Urban fantasy was outside his usual range of what he read, but he could at least point her in the right direction. "Any author in particular?"

"Just… one of the new ones?" the girl asked. J.J. bit his tongue hard. She could not have been more vague, he sighed mentally. Pawing through the shelves, he tried to remember the titles of any of the newer books they'd just gotten in. Finally, he settled on a book that they'd received last week that had a girl with a pistol on the cover looking over her shoulder at a snarling werewolf.

"What about this one?" he suggested, handing it to her. "'The Hound of Bikerville?' I think this is one of the new ones."

"Well… it's one that I haven't read yet, certainly," the girl agreed, taking the book from him and turning it over in her hands. "This'll do. Thank you for your assistance. You've been very kind to me," she said, looking up at him, her piercing eyes meeting his own.

"Don't mention it," J.J. shrugged. He didn't mention that he'd been close to raising his hackles a couple of times in response to her vague requests, and that his polite tone was more a matter of professional courtesy than anything else.

"No, truly, thank you," the girl whispered, stepping closer to him. J.J. leaned back a bit, finding his back pressed against the bookshelf behind him as the girl drew uncomfortably close to him. "Few people show me this much kindness without judging me for my looks. It's… refreshing. Tell me… would you like to dance with me in the sanguine darkness?"

As he gazed into her eyes, J.J. felt a pulse of something assault his senses, almost like a wave of dizziness washing over him. Closing his eyes, he shook his head quickly to dispel the feeling, before opening them again and smiling weakly at the girl.

"I'll… pass on that dance for now, thanks. Maybe find someone else to take you to the club?" he replied uneasily, raising an eyebrow at the girl. He noted a look of surprise flashing across her face, followed by confusion and then disappointment. The girl turned around with a sigh, hugging the book to her chest and walking away from him. "Would you like to check that out?" he added, and she paused in mid-stride, before turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"…Yes," she replied softly, allowing him to lead her to the front desk, where he sidled up to a computer and held out his hand for her library card. When she handed it to him, he glanced it over, taking a moment to memorize the girl's name. Abby Brooks, he thought to himself, burning her name into his brain as he scanned the book for her before handing it back to her with a forced smile.

"Return that to us in two weeks," J.J. told her. The girl didn't seem to hear him, drifting away from him like a wraith, while J.J. frowned after her. He leaned forward on the desk, folding his arms on the hard wood as he watched the girl slip out the front doors. He was going to have to keep a close eye on her. Although he didn't have any proof yet, and he couldn't exactly go around assaulting random people based on hunches, he suspected that this Abby Brooks girl was going to be the next Diemon he faced off against.

* * *

"A Diemon with powers based around attacking the mind?" Tristan asked, lightly picking at a fresh salad with his fork, a pensive look on his face. "I have encountered a few, yes. Usually, the D-formers alter physical abilities rather than granting a person mental modifications. Are you certain that what you felt was her attacking your mind?"

"I'm not sure what I felt," J.J. admitted. The two were in Gary's tavern, sitting at a corner table apart from everyone else. He had bought Tristan the salad, which the knight had been thoroughly enjoying, while J.J. had an untouched plate of lasagna in front of him. "She looked into my eyes, said… something about dancing in the darkness, and then I just felt dizzy for a minute."

"Perhaps you simply felt fatigued. Was she wearing a scent?" Tristan suggested.

"Not that I remember. Why are you playing devil's advocate here?" J.J. added skeptically. Tristan tilted his head at the unfamiliar expression. "Shouldn't you be the one telling me that I should have transformed right there if there's even a hint that this girl might have a D-former on her?"

"Normally I would, yes," Tristan admitted around a mouthful of tomato. "However, in this case, I think you made the right decision to not act hastily, but simply to remain vigilant for the possibility that she possesses a D-former. I have found that stressful situations can active a D-former, and to do so in a crowded place like the library would have been disastrous, as you can well imagine. For once, your caution did you credit, page."

"For once?" J.J. repeated with a glare.

"You said that you have her information as well, correct?" Tristan added, ignoring J.J.'s glowering. "Should this girl become a problem, you may simply track her to her residence and confront her there. Even if this girl is indeed a potential Diemon, you already have everything at your disposal to apprehend her. Now you must simply remain alert for anything unusual. What about the diary? Did you collect any information on her potential Diemon form?"

"And how would I do that?" J.J. pointed out, pulling out his diary and laying it on the table for a minute. "Pull out my sword and stab her with it to get a blood sample? I don't even know if that would work in her human form, and I can't just go around cutting people just because I think they might be a Diemon."

"Quite," Tristan agreed, then paused as he noticed something different about the diary. "You already put that second D-former into the spine?"

"Yeah. I figure the more forms I have access to, the more versatility I'll have if I have to fight," J.J. replied. "Warrior Class was very useful in the last fight, after all. So, I suggested it to the quill, and it agreed that it would work to implement the ifrit's abilities the same way it did with Ryan's orc."

"Has it been successful?" Tristan asked.

"Well… no. It's been taking longer to create the new form, because I asked it to also let me transform if I have to. The last time it created Warrior Class for me, the diary completely shut down, and I was left helpless and unable to change. If a Diemon attacks, I want to be able to transform if I have to."

"Why is it taking longer to create a new form, though?" Tristan asked around a mouthful of lettuce.

J.J. paused. His first thought was to explain it like a computer downloading a new program while still playing games as it downloaded in the background – it could be done, but the download would take much longer. However, he knew Tristan wouldn't understand that analogy. "Think of it as… say you were trying to run a race and read a book at the same time," J.J. said after a few moments' thought. "You could still read the book, but because you're also focused on something else, it'd take longer to understand it clearly."

"Ah," Tristan said non-commitally.

"By the way… do you want any dressing for that salad?" he added, eyeing Tristan's salad skeptically while finally taking a bite of his now-lukewarm lasagna. "You can't honestly prefer it plain."

"Dressing? Do explain," Tristan implored him curiously. J.J. raised an eyebrow, holding up the cup of ranch dressing that had come with Tristan's meal.

"Try pouring this over your salad," J.J. suggested, trying not to chuckle.

Tristan took the cup and sniffed it, his face screwing up in disgust a moment later as he held it away from him. "What foul concoction is this?! Why are you handing me curdled milk, page?! Are you trying to poison me? How did I ever slight you?"

"Let's start with my latest batch of bruises and go from there," J.J. replied drily, shrugging in reply. "If you don't want it, don't eat it."

Before Tristan could retort, the door swung open again, and J.J. glanced over to see one of the regulars, a college kid named Kevin, come walking into the tavern. What immediately caught J.J.'s eye, though, was his radical change in clothing. Usually Kevin wore typical frat boy attire – polo shirts, cargo shorts, maybe a visor. It was so stereotypical that J.J. almost found it parodic. However, today he had swapped out his usual outfit for a spiked collar, a black leather vest and matching pants, and spiked black boots. He was also wearing eyeliner – badly – and his usually straight hair had been spiked and styled with gel.

The tavern went silent as everyone stared at him in shock, and in the background, J.J. heard the metallic ring of Gary dropping one of his pewter tankards. For a few moments, no one said anything, before Gwen piped up, "So… is Hot Topic having a fire sale?"

J.J. shook his head as the tavern chuckled and everyone went back to their business, but the writer pushed himself up and walked over to Kevin, who slumped in a seat in the corner by himself, adopting a brooding pose. J.J. took a seat across from him.

"Something prompt this change in style?" J.J. asked casually.

"Leave me alone," Kevin snapped at him. "I don't need to associate with someone who hasn't danced in the sanguine darkness."

"And why are you quoting Cynthia Fawning novels?" Gwen piped up, putting her hands on the back of the booth and peering at him over J.J.'s shoulder.

"This… amazing girl opened my eyes to how great the Fawning books are!" Kevin exclaimed enthusiastically, gazing up at the ceiling with a glazed look in his eyes. "Now I want to share that world of darkness with her forever!"

"Right… okay, Kevin? If you're into goth culture now, that's awesome," J.J. said encouragingly. "I personally like the look, and I hung out with a few goths and emos in college. They were some of the best people I ever met. But… here's the thing. If this girl is making you change who you are for the chance to be with her? It ain't worth it, bro."

"Psh. Whatever. If you met her, you'd change your tune. I just want to stay up and talk with her all night," Kevin said with a dreamy look in his eyes.

J.J. glanced over his shoulder, trading a look with Gwen, before looking back down at Kevin with a raised eyebrow. "And who is this girl, exactly?" J.J. asked slowly.

"Like I'd tell you!" Kevin snapped, pushing himself up suddenly. "You just want to find my queen of darkness so you can have her for yourself! Forget you, man! I'm out of here! Don't know why I came here in the first place!" J.J. and Gwen were left with stunned looks as he stalked out of the tavern, almost slamming the door behind him.

"…Ooookay, that was weird," Gwen said, sliding into the booth across from J.J., who had laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table with a frown on his face. "What is it?" she added, noticing his expression.

"Mm… just thinking I might have met that girl he's talking about," J.J. said. "She seemed okay, but something was… off."

"What, did she seem like a stalker or something? A psycho girlfriend?" Gwen asked. "I mean, to get Kevin to change his appearance that much…."

"She didn't seem dangerous, no," J.J. said, half-lying to Gwen. On the surface, at least she hadn't, but if she had a D-former like he suspected… "I think I need to head out as well," he said suddenly, standing up.

"Oh… I thought we were going to run a game later," Gwen said, a look of disappointment on her face. J.J. blinked at her, then groaned and covered his eyes with his hand.

"Agh… sorry!" J.J. said hastily. "Can we run it tomorrow, maybe? I just really need to take care of something really quick."

"Like what?" Gwen asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes at him suddenly. "You've been kind of weird yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Lady things," J.J. replied simply, the quip catching Gwen off-guard. Despite herself, she snickered, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Fine, you win this one," she grinned. "When you're… ahem… 'feeling better', though, you'd better run your game."

"As soon as I get done with this. Maybe we can even do it tonight," J.J. assured her, smiling at her briefly while motioning for Tristan to come with him as he headed out the door and made his way over to where his bike was parked.

* * *

A half hour later, J.J. pulled up to the curb of a modest suburban home in one of the residential areas of Marville. He had briefly stopped by the library to check Abby's address, though part of him felt sick for doing so. If he was wrong about this, he was harassing some poor girl over nothing. Of course, all he had to do was explain that he was just trying to follow up on the book he had lent out to the girl. It was a lie that he had formulated on the way over, and part of him was growing concerned with how increasingly easy it was becoming to come up with stories to justify his actions.

What worried him even more than that was how he was starting to justify them to himself. Of course, this was all to protect others before it became a problem, he had told himself. It wasn't stalking or harassing someone who might be innocent. It was no worse than a cop checking up on a noisy house. Even though he didn't have a badge and wasn't supposed to be doing this….

Ruthlessly suppressing those thoughts, he stepped off his bike and walked up to the house, ringing the doorbell before stepping back, his hands behind his back. A few minutes later, the door was answered by a plump middle-aged woman with mussed, wiry hair, who gazed at J.J. suspiciously.

"Good evening. Ms. Brooks?" J.J. asked easily.

"Yeah? Can I help you?" she asked hesitantly, looking him up and down.

"Sorry to bother you. I was just coming by to check on something that I gave to your daughter. Abby, right? She checked out a book earlier today, and I realized that I'd given her the wrong barcode. I have a scanner with me, so I wanted to just update her library card while I had the chance. Figured it'd save her a trip to the library, so she doesn't have to come in early and get it renewed. She might accidentally get pegged with a late fee, which isn't fair to her," J.J. explained, a little impressed with himself for the elaborate lie he'd constructed.

"Why not just update your system?" Ms. Brooks asked with a frown.

"The checkout system is old and can't really be updated manually. This is honestly easier," J.J. responded, having thought of that already. "It'd only take a second."

"…Alright, sure," the older woman replied after a moment's thought, shrugging. "Abby!" she hollered into the house, making J.J. jump suddenly. When there was no response, she turned back to J.J. with a shrug.

"Doesn't look like she's here. I'm not surprised. She's been going out with her friends more often," she explained.

"Do you know where she usually hangs out, by any chance?" J.J. asked.

"I don't know," Ms. Brooks sighed. "She's a teenager. She's at that phase where she doesn't tell me anything, and at this point, I don't really care what that girl does. She'll be out of my house soon anyways. I'll pass the message along when she gets back. If there's nothing else, I'd like you to get off my porch."

"Ah… right," J.J. said uneasily. "Thanks aga-!" he began, but the older woman had already closed the door in his face, leaving him standing there with a blank expression.

Tristan was standing over by the bike with his arms folded, gazing at J.J. evenly as the writer walked back over to him. "That was fruitless," he stated.

"And the sky is blue," J.J. agreed icily, sighing as he leaned on the bike. "I was really hoping we could nip this one in the bud. I don't want to have to fight another Diemon if I can avoid it."

"Most adventures end in failure, page," Tristan said. "We should-" The knight stopped suddenly, peering over J.J.'s shoulder with narrowed eyes.

J.J. turned, his eyes widening as he saw a lurching figure stagger out from behind the house. The blue-veined form of a Shard stood out easily against the rapidly dimming light, as it was now past sunset. It seemed to be looking around curiously, its head held high in the air, as it glanced around in an almost bestial manner. While it wasn't exactly sniffing the air, it seemed as if the Shard was trying to track something.

"Go dispatch that creature," Tristan growled, nudging J.J. The writer, however, paused, holding up his hand.

"Wait… you mentioned that Shards are drawn to active D-formers, right?" J.J. asked, keeping watching the Shard carefully while he addressed Tristan.

"They are…." Tristan said slowly.

"So if I transform here, it'll come after me," J.J. explained. "But think about it. If this Abby girl is actually using a D-former, it'd want to track her down instead, right? All we have to do is leave it alone, and it should lead us right to her."

"What about if it attacks other citizens? And what if she's not using a D-former?" Tristan asked skeptically.

"I'll destroy it before it goes after anyone else," J.J. assured him. "And even if it's not going after her, if it leads us to someone using an active D-former, so much the better, right? Either way, it saves us from having to track them down later."

"Mm. I dislike the idea of putting others in danger, but Shards don't usually attack anyone not using a D-former…. unless they get too close to a Diemon. Then they go into a frenzy and attack anything else in sight, aside from the Diemon itself. I suppose your plan has some merit. But let us be quiet about it," Tristan implored him.

J.J. nodded, and the two began to follow the Shard from a distance, watching it stagger and stumble around as the sky continued to darken. For over an hour, they watched the Shard wander around the city, occasionally getting within sight of random passerby out for a late-night stroll, but the civilians were smart enough gave the Shard a wide berth (often by running screaming in the other direction) and the Shard, in turn, left them alone. As time passed, the sun began to set, turning the sky a deep, velvety purple. Just as J.J. was getting tired of following it, the Shard seemed to perk up, loping over to an abandoned overpass, where J.J. could make out the faint, colorful lights of what looked like a rave.

"Holding a party under a bridge?" J.J. asked skeptically.

Tristan shrugged as the pair walked towards the bridge. As they drew closer, J.J. could hear music echoing off the concrete, and to his surprise, there were Shards mingling casually with regular humans, though the Shards seemed more interested in prostrating themselves before a lone figure on a couch in front of them.

As they drew closer, J.J. recognized Abby, reclining on a half-ruined sofa like a Roman noble reclining on a couch. She had a few boys dressed in black surrounding her, gazing at her lovingly, while the Shards continued to bow before her like they were worshipping a goddess.

"I thought you said Shards attack anything in sight when they're within range of an active D-former," J.J. said to Tristan over the increasingly loud music.

"Perhaps she has some level of control over them and is encouraging them not to attack these comrades of hers?" Tristan suggested, though his tone was unsure. "Either way, from the way both groups are behaving, it would seem your hunch about her mental domination was correct. Do you have a plan?"

"Try to talk her into giving up her D-former peacefully?" J.J. replied hesitantly. Tristan frowned at him. "Honestly, I don't know what I can do. The last couple of times I just asked people for their D-formers, they turned hostile. Worse, Abby's a teenager, and I suspect that if I told her to do one thing, she'd do the opposite out of spite, even if she wasn't being influenced by a D-former. So… I'm just going to wing it here. But I think this is going to end in a fight no matter what I do."

Abby spotted them, her eyes brightening as she set down the beer bottle in her hand, and she pushed herself up and walked over to them.

"I wasn't expecting anyone else!" she exclaimed, sounding delighted. However, her face fell when J.J. stepped into the flashing lights and she caught sight of his face. "Oh, wait. You're that guy from earlier today. The librarian, right?"

"Yeah. I wanted to talk with you, if you don't mind?" J.J. asked. Abby shrugged, curling one finger in a motion for him to follow her.

"Have you come to dance with us?" Abby asked. "You didn't seem interested before."

"That's what I wanted to talk with you about," J.J. said conversationally, declining the beer she offered him with a wave of his hand. "Are these your friends?" he asked.

"Yeah. It's amazing how many of them suddenly want to chat with me, isn't it?" Abby smirked at him. "Most of these boys used to completely ignore me, yet now they can't take their eyes off me."

"Right. Because an all-male harem is every girl's dream," J.J. said sarcastically under his breath. "What made them change their minds?" he asked, loud enough for her to hear this time.

"Probably this," Abby shrugged, holding up an object that confirmed J.J.'s suspicions. In the darkness, he could make out the shape of a midnight-blue D-former. "All I have to do is look them in the eyes and concentrate, and suddenly they no longer ignore me."

"So… you're hypnotizing them?" J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe? I dunno. Does it matter?" Abby asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "I don't need you berating me, you know. You're not my dad."

"No, of course not. That'd be creepy," J.J. chuckled, trying to defuse her rising hostility. "But… I dunno, what about them do you find so interesting? And more importantly, what do they like about you? I mean… they weren't into you before. Why the change of heart?"

"Tell them, Ivan," Abby said lazily, looking over at a tall, well-built boy wearing a black tanktop and matching black jeans.

"She's our queen of the night, and we wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Ivan said in a dreamy voice, wearing the same glazed expression that J.J. had seen on Kevin.

"Okay… but what exactly about her is so interesting?" J.J. pressed. "What do you talk about?"

"Whatever she wants to talk about, of course," piped up another boy from the back.

"Right… and surely these aren't one-sided conversations?" J.J. asked pointedly to Abby, who narrowed her eyes at him.

"I have someone listening to me for once. That's more than I can say about how my life was before this," she insisted.

"Yeah, but is this really what you want?" J.J. pointed out. "It sounds to me like you're just forcing these guys to nod in agreement with what you like. Isn't that getting… dull? Wouldn't you rather have a meaningful discussion with someone who actually cares about what you like?"

"They do care!" Abby insisted.

"Really? Alright, you were checking out books earlier, right? Ivan, name something about Abby's book that you like," J.J. said suddenly, looking over her shoulder at the large boy.

"I… the fact that… Abby likes them…?" Ivan asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"Enough!" Abby snapped suddenly, stepping in front of J.J. with a snarl. Her eyes met his, and she hissed to him, "You're going to dance with me."

Once again, J.J. felt his mind pulse as her eyes seemed to glow a bright, neon green in the low light, only this time it was much more forceful. He felt as if an invisible hand had just tried to squeeze his mind, numbing it, and he grunted and staggered away from her. He wasn't sure if it was because she was applying more pressure, or because she had gotten more used to using the powers granted to her by the D-former, but she was definitely stronger.

"Yeah… that trick isn't going to work on me," J.J. grunted, straightening up after shaking his head. Abby's eyes widened in fright for a moment, before letting out a low growl.

"Fine then. But you're not staying here." she smirked. She suddenly pointed at him, calling out, "You, the crystals with the glowing lines! Get him out of here!"

J.J. took a step back as the Shards turned their glowing eyes towards him and pushed themselves up, starting to lumber forward. Hesitantly, he glanced over at Tristan, who shook his head. "You don't have a choice but to fight now, page!" he called out. "Don't hesitate!"

Sighing, J.J. pulled out his diary and opened it, holding it up to his left cheek as he stared down the approaching Shards. "Henshin!" he called out, his Driver appearing around his waist. Quickly slotting the book, he gave the D-former a spin and held out his hand as he heard the familiar call of **"Adventure: Begin!"** followed by a trumpet, and his body was surrounded by a swirling amber crystal as his body was covered by his leather suit. As the spinning stopped, his quill flew into his hand gloved, and he clicked the bottom once to extend it out into its sword form.

"Alea iacta est," J.J. murmured. Behind the Shards, he could see Abby staring at him, her mouth hanging open in shock, while her thralls seemed to have regained enough sense to flee into the night. As the first Shard charged him, J.J. brought his sword up, parrying the blow with the edge of his blade before ducking under a second swing from the beast's other arm. Shifting his weight forward, he slashed across the monster's chest, and it collapsed in a pile of ash behind him. He then swayed backwards away from the claws of a second Shard. He grabbed its arm with his left hand, keeping it in place while he stabbed the crystalline creature where its kidneys should be, and then kicked it towards two more Shards. The wounded Shard dissolved into dust, but not before its momentum made the other two stumble backwards. J.J. took advantage of the opening that provided, shifting forward to deliver a series of short, quick cuts to the off-balance beasts, which likewise fell to the ground and broke into dust.

Three Shards remained, but appeared hesitant to engage him, which surprised him. Until now, they had been more than eager to charge at him without regard for their own safety. This was the first time they had displayed any sort of caution. He took advantage of the momentary lapse in combat to catch his breath, spinning his sword once in his hand to collect himself, before bouncing on his toes and waiting for the Shards to decide whether they were going to attack him or not. After a few moments, one of the Shards did indeed finally run at him. J.J. leaned backwards as it swung at him, slashing its wrist as it did. The sharp blade sliced through its arm effortlessly, its hand falling to the ground before crumbling into dust. Before the Shard could recover, he stepped forward and stabbed it through the chest as well, before engaging the last pair of Shards, which decided to attack at the same time. J.J. was able to block one strike, but the other collided firmly with his stomach, making him grunt and double up for a moment. Taking advantage of this, the first Shard put its hands together and slammed down on the back of his head, making J.J. hit the dirt. He wasn't hurt, but he was stunned for a moment as the wind was knocked out of him.

Fortunately, he had enough presence of mind to roll out of the way once he had realized what had happened, avoiding one of the Shards trying to stomp on his prone body. He loosed a wild slash as he did, the blade connecting with the calf of the nearest Shard, which collapsed to one knee. Its compatriot tried to press the advantage, but J.J. had managed to climb to his knees, and he parried the wild claw strike of the Shard off to one side before standing and circling around behind the Shard in a quick movement. Turning his blade around, he stabbed the creature in the back, hearing it crumble to dust behind him before he walked over to the last Shard, still kneeling on the ground, wounded. It looked up into J.J.'s face plate with hollow, glowing eyes, and then suddenly lashed out with a claw strike. J.J. stabbed it through the throat before its attack reached him, and the Shard was left in a tableau, half-frozen, before finally collapsing into dust and leaving the way between J.J. and Abby clear.

Abby continued to stare at him in fright as J.J. pressed the pommel of his quill, shrinking it back down into its pen form, before holding up his hands to indicate that he had no desire to continue fighting her. "Sorry if I scared you," he said with genuine regret. "I don't like having to fight if I can avoid it, but you didn't give me much of a choice. I'm sorry, but you can't keep doing this. That jewel you have, the D-former, is going to turn you into a monster like those. You can't want that, right?"

Abby hesitated, looking conflicted as she gazed down at the gem, but then her expression hardened, and she looked up at J.J. defiantly. "What do I care?" she snapped, closing her fingers around the crystal as J.J. felt his stomach sink. "Everyone already thinks I'm a freak anyways. Might as well prove it to them, right?!"

Before J.J. could do anything else, she was engulfed in a flash of blue light. J.J. briefly shielded his eyes from the sudden glare in the evening light, and as he lowered his hand, he saw to his disappointment that Abby had assumed a Diemon form.

She had grown about a foot taller, and her clothes had disappeared to leave her in a genderless form. This new body had leathery grey skin stretched tightly over lithe muscles, part of which formed thin, membranous wings under her arms. Her fingers ended in eight-inch black claws, and from the look of them J.J. wouldn't have been surprised if she could slash through stone. Her face had undergone the most radical change, with her ears elongated and pointed, her nose squished up against her face to give her a pig-like appearance, her eyes reduced to black, beady dots, and her mouth opened to reveal fangs, particularly prominent canine teeth. Her hair had turned stark white and flowed down her back, giving her an otherworldly appearance.

Abby slowly looked down at herself, her eyes widening in shock as she saw what she had become. She immediately ran over to a discarded hubcap and peered into it, trembling slightly with horror. However, her look of fear slowly melted into a sneer, and she touched her cheeks gently with her long claws.

"Amazing," she whispered to herself, her voice now more shrill and seeming to have a squeaking quality to it. "Now I really am a queen of the night." She turned to smirk over at J.J. "What do you think of-?"

However, J.J. was no longer standing where she had been looking. Rather, he was right in front of her, and her eyes widened in terror as he brought his sword down on her in a vicious slash. As soon as he had realized that she had transformed into a Diemon, J.J. had recognized that he had to knock her out of the form as quickly as possible, especially while she still had no idea what was going on. From her reaction, he was willing to guess this was the first time she had become a Diemon, and he doubted she knew her own capabilities any better than he did. It was better to beat her now before she had the chance to find out.

Abby screamed as his blade cut into her leathery flesh, opening a wide gash on her chest. J.J. forced himself to ignore her pain, pressing the attack and stabbing at her. She leaned out of the way, his blade cutting her cheek. He pulled back and thrusted again, this time aiming at her stomach. To his surprise, however, she reached out and grabbed his arm with surprising speed. She likewise seemed shocked by how quickly she moved. Looking up, she reached out and slashed at him with her claws, the gleaming blades aimed at his stomach.

J.J. stepped back in time, wrenching his arm free, but her claws still impacted his stomach with far more force than he had anticipated. They didn't pierce his armor, but he was once again left doubled over and grunting as he staggered back from her. Abby looked at her own hands in amazement, before grinning wickedly at J.J., whose eyes widened behind his helmet. He quickly straightened up and ran at her again, stabbing forward, but she stepped out of the way, moving far faster than he could. J.J. noticed the move and was able to react, twisting his wrist to slash at her, but she again danced out of the way, seeming to toy with him as she did.

J.J. swore under his breath as he stepped back. He recalled Tristan's lessons about over-committing to an attack, and instead tightened up his guard, watching her cautiously. He threw a quick stab at her, feinting at her shoulder, and she brought her hand up again to block him, but J.J. twisted his wrist again, this time slashing her arm and opening a large gash. Abby screamed in pain, and in her rage stepped in and began slashing at J.J. with her claws. She used wild, furious strokes, and at first, they were so telegraphed that he was able to parry them. However, her attacks were fast and continuous, so he couldn't find a chance to counter, and he found himself on his back foot as Abby pressed her assault. She seemed to realize this as well, and eventually one of her attacks got through, her claws raking across his chest. J.J. grunted in pain, backing away from her.

As he tried to recover, however, Abby suddenly seemed to appear behind him, and before he could react, her talons raked across his back. He stumbled forward, but she appeared in front of him again, this time punching him across the face and sending him sprawling to the ground. As he looked up at her, she seemed to vanish into thin air, and her laughter began echoing in the tunnel. "Come find me!" she taunted him, giggling like a maniac.

J.J. groaned and struggled to his feet as Tristan rushed over to help him up. "Do not pursue her," the knight warned him. "She is taunting you, and you cannot match her swiftness."

"Relax, I'm not letting her get to me. I'm not angry or anything, and I'm not falling for her taunts. But this is my best chance to beat her, here and now. The longer she's in that form, the more time she has to learn to use her abilities," J.J. pointed out, shrugging off Tristan's hand. "And I have a couple ideas on how to deal with her speed."

J.J. gently pulled away from Tristan and straightened up, ignoring the pain in his chest and back as he walked under the bridge, looking around cautiously. As soon as he was in range of a wall, he pressed his back to it so that she couldn't get behind him. He then began to peer around, the flashing multicolored lights of the rave letting him see better than he had out in the darkness.

"Come on, step out of the light! Come dance in the darkness!" Abby's voice taunted him, echoing off the walls. J.J. ignored her, instead putting his hand on the red D-former lodged in the spine of his diary. Exhaling, he gave it a quick spin.

 **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** the Fantasy Driver cried, and as war drums drowned out the club music still echoing through the bridge, he was engulfed in a spinning red die. When that finished, he was once more in his more heavily-armored red form, his war-hammer hanging loosely in his right hand.

He knew that this could easily prove to be a mistake. Warrior Class was far slower than his base form, but he wasn't keeping up with her speed anyways, and the trade-off was that this form was better equipped to take hits. Plus, he had a hunch about Abby's stat distribution. From what he had seen, Diemons seemed to have strengths and weaknesses that balanced each other out. As fast as she was, he suspected that her form was also the type that couldn't take a hit. If he could land one solid blow on her with Warrior's power, he might win.

Slowly, J.J. scanned the area under the bridge, bringing his hammer up to rest it on his shoulder while gazing around carefully to try and get some hint of where Abby might be. Keeping his back against the wall, he looked up at the ceiling, then towards the edges of the overpass, his heart pounding as he waited for her to ambush him. He sidled towards the edge of the overpass and furtively peered around it, glancing back and forth quickly, before suddenly turning around, his hammer at the ready as he expected Abby to appear behind him, like in horror movies. However, nothing happened.

"You were right the first time," came a voice in his ear, and J.J. swung his hammer around behind him as Abby danced out of the way, laughing as she stood out in a clearing, beckoning for him to follow. J.J. realized he had little choice but to play by her rules, and slowly stepped out into the open. Abby suddenly rushed him, and J.J. brought his hammer up, catching her attack. With a growl, he swung his hammer, his increased strength catching Abby off-guard. She was thrown backwards and landed on her back with a grunt. J.J. noted that her wings must just be for show; they were too small to let her do more than glide a little bit, so he thankfully didn't have to worry about her flying.

Pushing herself up, Abby began to run around him, trying to get behind him, as J.J. continued to pivot in one spot, daring her to get close. She giggled as she saw her complete advantage in speed, and she taunted him, "What now, hero?"

J.J., however, smiled. Having gotten a clear view of the surrounding area, he realized that she had accidentally boxed herself into a corner. There were in a fenced-in area, and while either of them could easily clear the fence in their powered forms, it was still a minor obstacle. Particularly since Abby still wasn't used to the capabilities of her transformed form, the fence was almost certainly providing a mental roadblock for her. He figured she was imagining herself in a cage, unable to leave the narrow confines of the fence, which was why she hadn't taken advantage of the cover the woods would give her. Therefore, he used her inexperience to his advantage.

Putting his thumb on his red D-former, he gave it another spin, and he heard the Driver yell out, **"Critical!"** The head of the hammer began to glow crimson, and he suddenly stopped following her, apparently leaving his back exposed. Abby drew a bit closer to attack him, taking the bait, and he suddenly slammed the hammer into the ground. Like he expected the heavy impact of the hammer opened deep cracks in the ground around him, spreading out like a crater. Abby tripped over one of the fissures and fell to the ground with a shriek, while J.J. grinned to himself.

With her still on the ground, he spun the amber D-former in the center of his diary. **"Reroll! Class: Adventurer!"** the book shouted, and he reverted to his base form. He then spun it again, surrounding himself with the amber shield to protect himself from any further attacks from Abby, while the Driver once again shouted **"Critical!"**

Abby watched with a frightened expression as J.J. began to gather strength in his legs, charging himself up for a Critical Kick to end the fight. Before he could, though, he suddenly felt a wave of fatigue wash over him, and he dropped to a knee with a gasp. He felt as if he had just finished running a marathon, all his energy leaving him at once, while Abby stared at him. Realizing that he was helpless, she grinned and pushed herself up, approaching him with her claws extended, and she slashed at the shield. However, her strike bounced off the faceted edges of the die, and she let out a cry of pain, like she had just been burned. To her horror, dark blue cracks began to expand across her body from her fingers, and in a moment her Diemon form had shattered into a million dark blue fractals.

Abby looked down at her human form as J.J. slowly struggled to his feet. Her eyes widened, and she immediately turned and ran, clambering over the fence before J.J. could go after her. He was simply too exhausted to pursue her as she disappeared into the night. With a groan, he pulled the D-former out of his diary, dispelling his armored form, before collapsing on his back on the ground, panting.

Tristan approached him with his hands in his pockets as J.J. put his D-former back into his diary, and then laid on the ground for a little bit, catching his breath. After a few moments, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, opening his diary once more as he did.

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly, and the quill flew out of his hand to start scribbling on a blank page.

 _You expended too much energy at once. Right now, you cannot use multiple Criticals in quick succession like that. Your body cannot handle the strain. You are lucky you attempted to do so now; had you done that in some of your previous fights, the strain may have killed you._

"Great. Next time, warn me of potentially life-threatening moves before I do them," J.J. sighed, taking Tristian's hand as the knight helped him to his feet. His legs still felt like they were made of lead, but at least he was able to stand.

"It is a pity you were unsuccessful. Your strategies were good," Tristan praised him as J.J. leaned on his shoulder.

"Thanks, but it doesn't matter. She still got away before I could take her D-former," J.J. sighed, trying to push himself away to stand on his own, though Tristan didn't let him, and he soon stopped trying. "Doesn't matter if the score is ten to nothing or ten to nine, a loss is still a loss."

"…I see," Tristan said, not understanding the idiom. "For now, you are in no shape to continue. Nor is she. And you have enough of her data to pursue her, correct? Simply copy down her data in your diary, and we can seek her out in the morning. If she uses her D-former again, we shall know."

"Good point," J.J. agreed, opening up his diary. "Can I write down her information now? I have a good idea what monster her Diemon form is based on."

 _Not while I am finishing constructing your new form,_ the quill responded, and J.J. could swear from its handwriting that it was getting a bit annoyed at his constant demands. _Once that is completed, you may provide her data._

"Yeesh, sorry," J.J. sighed, snapping the book shut. "Alright, nothing else we can do tonight, then. For now, let's get some rest. We'll see about tracking her down in the morning."

* * *

The next day, the diary's creation of his new form was still incomplete, but J.J. wanted to get a jump on tracking down Abby, so he figured he'd try the one place where she might have returned to the night before. Thus, he found himself standing outside of the Brooks home, and once again, he rang the doorbell.

As the door swung open, he was alarmed to see Ms. Brooks standing in front of him looking even more ragged than the day before. Her eyes were red and puffy like she had been crying, and she looked like she hadn't slept all night. When she saw J.J. standing in front of her, though, a look of irritation replaced her haggard expression.

"You again! What do you want?" she snapped. "Stop pestering me!"

"Sorry, this'll only take a second, I swear!" J.J. said quickly. "I'd just like to ask your daughter-"

"You can't ask her anything right now! She's not here!" Ms. Brooks barked at him, before breaking down sobbing, as J.J. felt a lump rising in his throat.

"I'm… sure she just stayed out late…." J.J. started, but the woman shook her head.

"You don't get it, do you? Abby's not a bad girl. She's stayed out late before, but she's always come home. But not last night."

"You mean...?" J.J. pressed, his stomach sinking.

"My daughter didn't come home, last night, kid. Abby's gone."


	7. Session 7

**Session 7**

J.J. pulled the Bay-cycle into the parking lot of Gary's tavern, letting out a sigh of disappointment as he parked it and pulled off his helmet. He took a moment to brush off his jacket before he dismounted and walked into the tavern. Thankfully, since it was early in the afternoon, there weren't many people hanging around. Gwen was curled up in a corner reading a book, and another patron J.J. recognized by sight but not by name was sitting at the bar sipping a pale beer. Gary looked up from behind the bar and noticed J.J.'s tired expression. Flashing him a sympathetic look, he immediately poured a glass of water and hurried over to hand it to him.

"Still no luck, then?" Gary asked as J.J. took the glass from him with a grateful nod and began to chug it down.

"Nada," J.J. replied, wiping his lips as he took a seat at one of the long tables in the center of the room. "The police are still looking around the area, but they told the rest of us to head home for now. Most of us had to get back to work, and we couldn't spend all day looking around."

"I see. Still, it's good that you're helping with this search for that missing girl," Gary said with a warm smile, briefly squeezing J.J.'s shoulder with a beefy hand. "I'm proud of you for doing that much, even if nothing's turning up."

"Thanks," J.J. said wearily. "Just wish we had some sort of lead we could follow. It's been two days, but there hasn't even been a trace of her."

"Just be patient. I'm sure she's around here somewhere. If she'd left the city, she'd have probably been spotted by someone at the gates," Gary pointed out. "One of the benefits of living inside a walled city."

"Always found that weird," J.J. noted. "Why does this city need walls? That used to be a thing in medieval cities, sure, but walls didn't have any importance after gunpowder was invented. All they did was limit how much a city could expand."

"They say the Marks family just liked the way it looked," Gary shrugged. "I dunno. Anyways, take your time and rest up."

J.J. nodded and set the empty glass down on the table before folding his arms and resting his head on them. He exhaled slowly as he closed his eyes for a few moments, taking deep breaths. When he heard movement behind him, though, he slowly opened his eyes again. Raising his head, he saw Gwen's piercing blue eyes boring into his own.

"Something's bothering you," Gwen said suspiciously.

"I beg your pardon?" J.J. frowned at her.

"This isn't your style," Gwen explained, turning a chair around and straddling it, her arms crossed along the back. "Don't get me wrong, J.J. Despite your sarcasm and snark, you're generally a pretty nice guy. But you're not the type to volunteer to do charity work like this. Especially not looking for a girl that you had like one conversation with a couple of days ago. Something is bothering you, and I want to know what it is."

"Why is that your business?" J.J. snarled, a bit more defensively than he'd intended.

"Because I'm your friend," she replied quietly, and J.J. stopped bristling immediately. "Look, I get it if you don't want me poking my nose into your business. I'm just worried about you."

"Sorry," J.J. replied with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. "I'm just getting tired and frustrated is all." In the two days since Abby had gone missing, J.J. felt like both he and the police had run out of tricks they could use to find her. The police had been searching for her as soon as her mother had reported her missing, and had organized a volunteer search party to look for her as well. When Abby had disappeared, a few of the boys she had been hanging around with had vanished around the same time. Yesterday, one of the boys had resurfaced. However, he had been too incoherent to say anything; he had been dehydrated and babbling. The doctors had declared that he was in shock, and he was being treated at a hospital, but he still wasn't able to provide any information about where he had been. Trying to re-trace his location had also been unsuccessful.

J.J. had also tried everything he could think of to track Abby down. He had tried to stalk Shards that might be drawn to her location, but apparently she was keeping her usage of her Diemon powers to a minimum, as there hadn't been any Shards spotted since his initial encounter with her. Occasionally, he felt the diary vibrate, indicating that she was using her powers, but it only lasted for a few seconds, like a text message that he kept missing. He was getting impatient, as he had always at least been able to track Diemons with his diary.

"Why do you care so much?" Gwen asked, snapping J.J. out of his thoughts. "Like I said, you spoke to her, what, once? That's not really enough time to form some deep, meaningful bond."

"Yeah, but… I feel like I'm kinda responsible for her running off," J.J. replied. Which was true – he had been the one to force her to retreat after their last fight. Not that he could share that with Gwen. "I mean… she did try to hit on me before."

"Oh, please," Gwen scoffed. "You don't really think that being rejected by a cute guy is an excuse to abandon your life and run away, do you?"

"Well… she did invite me to a party, and I did show up for a little while," J.J. admitted. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, and he added quickly, "And while I was there, I may have said a few things to her that might have riled her up. Like… that she shouldn't surround herself with guys just because they're hot."

"But you're right. Still… yeah, that's not really the sort of thing a teenage girl would want to hear," Gwen said. "Hm. Alright, yeah, I can see why you'd feel a little guilty about that. Still, if she's that thin-skinned, that's her problem. Why is it _your_ job to go looking for her?"

 _Because if I don't, she's going to turn into a rampaging monster that'll tear the city apart,_ J.J. thought bitterly. _It's not as if the police have the firepower to take down a Diemon._ Focusing on Gwen, he instead said, "Because I at least want to apologize to her for being so harsh with her. If I can do that much, I'll at least feel a little better."

Gwen sighed with frustration, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. After several long moments, she said, "…Alright. I'll help you think, but only so you run the damn game again. You've spent way too much time brooding lately, and not enough time letting us track down the princess."

"Sorry," J.J. apologized sheepishly, looking up at the ceiling. "There's something she kept saying that's bothering me. 'Dance with me in the sanguine darkness'. Do you know what that means, by any chance?"

"Yeah, it's a quote from a Cynthia Fawning series," Gwen replied immediately. "'Lady of the Midnight Rose.' It's a vampire series."

"I figured that much," J.J. said with a grim expression, looking down at his diary. As soon as his new form had been completed, he had written down the word 'Vampire' in the diary, and the diary had immediately given him her stats page. "What can you tell me about that series?"

"Oh, it's a good one. Well… at least, I enjoyed it when I was a teenager." Gwen said, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Did you have a goth phase too?" J.J. asked, smirking at her slightly.

"We all have our dark phases," Gwen said, waving him off. "When I was younger, I also used to like to dress in all black and go out into town to stir up trouble. I grew up. It gets boring being dark all the time, after all," she said.

"I can imagine. Never went through that phase myself. I was always preppy," J.J. admitted. "Which… really isn't any better. Worse, probably. I was a conceited, self-centered brat." Gwen eyed him curiously, and he coughed. "Anyways, I haven't read the books myself, but maybe there's something to that line of thinking. What if she's pretending to be the protagonist, live out her fantasies that way? What's the main character like?"

"She's a vampire that's been around for three hundred years," Gwen said, looking up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. "Powerful, sexy, all the guys want her without having to do anything…."

"Sounds like a Mary Sue," J.J. scoffed. He hated stories that centered around perfect characters.

"She is," Gwen agreed. "But that's the fun of it. Not every story has to have a deep, flawed protagonist. Fluff pieces where you watch someone do all the things you wish you could do are fun every once in a while too. Especially when you're a lonely teenager and you feel like you can't do anything," she added, once again getting a distant look in her eye.

"Right… so where does this vampire live?" J.J. asked, trying to keep Gwen focused on the topic at hand.

"She makes her lair in… an old mansion," she replied slowly.

"Well, that's not a lead we can follow then," J.J. sighed. "Police said they already checked the old Marks Mansion. It was one of the first places they looked, in fact. Scoured that place from top to bottom. No sign that anyone had been in there for years."

"Really? You sure they checked everywhere?" Gwen asked, a mischievous look in her eye that made J.J. raise an eyebrow at her.

"Why…?" he asked her slowly.

"That mansion has secrets all over the place if you know where to look for them," she said smugly.

"And you're saying you do?" J.J. asked impatiently.

"Of course. Take me with you and I'll show you," Gwen said.

J.J. hesitated, weighing his options. He didn't want to get Gwen wrapped up in anything having to do with the Diemons if he could avoid it. But as long as Abby had a D-former, she was a threat, and from what he had seen of her in their first encounter, she was on a power trip. There was no guarantee she wouldn't get bored of hiding and instead decide to go on a rampage or something. Plus, Gwen was offering him a route he hadn't pursued yet, and she seemed confident of her knowledge of the mansion. But was he a good enough fighter to protect her if something went wrong? That was the real question he tossed back and forth in his mind for several long moments, before finally coming to a decision.

"…Alright, we'll investigate together," J.J. sighed. Gwen beamed at him.

"Good! Not that you had a choice but to bring me along anyways," Gwen said smugly. Reaching around her neck, she pulled a lanyard out of her shirt and showed him an iron key swinging from the end of a keychain. "You'll need this to open some of the secret doors in the mansion anyways."  
"Where'd you get that?" J.J. asked suspiciously.

"What? It's a family heirloom, of course I would have it," Gwen shrugged.

"What're you talking about?" J.J. asked.

"Oh, right. You never asked my last name, did you?" Gwen said, grinning smugly at him. "It's Marks. My full name is Gwen Marks. My family founded Marville, and that mansion technically belongs to me."

* * *

Before J.J. had been given the chance to ask her more questions, Gwen had practically dragged him out the door of the tavern and onto his bike, ordering him to drive to the mansion first and assuring him that she would answer his questions later. J.J. had acquiesced, but his mind was spinning with questions. It was hard for him to ask her anything with the engine going though, so the ten-minute ride went by in silence with Gwen gripping his midriff tightly as they raced down the road.

Gary's tavern was located just at the edge of the Old Marville district, and the area became increasingly sketchy as they drove past run-down buildings and old, half-crumbling structures that were in dire need of renovation. It was an odd feeling for J.J., though, as he no longer felt the need to avoid the area. While crime was a bit higher in Old Marville, between his training and his powers as Page, he felt more than confident that he could handle a random mugger if he had to. Part of him was ashamed that he would be so quick to resort to using his powers and completely outclass someone only armed with a knife or a pistol, but if his life was on the line, wasn't anything fair?

Gwen, for her part, seemed completely unconcerned with the increasingly dreary surroundings as they sped towards the mansion. She seemed downright cheerful, even waving to a few people, who stared at her mutely as they flashed by. When they finally pulled up to the closed gates of the mansion, she nimbly hopped off the bike and removed her helmet, shaking out her white-blond hair before grinning over at J.J.

"That was fun!" she exclaimed. "You're taking me on more rides like that!"

"Sure, fine," J.J. said absently, wheeling the bike up to the chained gates. "Why didn't you tell me you were part of the Marks family?"

"It never came up," Gwen shrugged nonchalantly as she walked towards the gates. "You've only lived here, what, eight months now? Nine? And we've only ever really hung out to do gaming. You don't need to trade life stories to do that. I mean… what's Ryan's last name?"

"Ah… O'Connor? O'Donnell? Something like that?" J.J. asked unsurely.

"O'Connell. You see?" Gwen pointed out. "And you're just not the type to ask people about their personal lives. It's fine, no one resents you for it!" Gwen added quickly as she noticed the slightly ashamed look on J.J.'s face. "That's just how you are. A lot of us appreciate that you don't pry into our privacy, honestly."

"Fair enough. But how come no one else brought it up?" he pointed out as Gwen began unlocking the gates.

"Some of them just don't know that I'm a Marks. It's not exactly something I like to spread around," Gwen explained, turning the key in the lock with a loud click. J.J. walked over to help her undo the chains wrapped around the bars of the gate. "And those that do, like Gary, are nice enough not to casually mention it to people. Which I appreciate. If your family was locally famous, would you want everyone on the street bothering you about it?"

"No," J.J. agreed emphatically. He could sympathize with that; it was why he didn't want his identity as a vigilante to become common knowledge either. "But I feel a little bad. We're supposed to be friends, and yet I didn't even know that much."

"Well, in exchange, you can tell me a secret about you," Gwen suggested, grinning at him. J.J. blinked at her, his voice catching in his throat.

"Ah…." he hedged.

"Relax," Gwen laughed, poking his side. "Secrets are secrets for a reason. I won't press you if you don't wanna tell me. Shall we go in?" she asked, motioning them forward. J.J. nodded quickly, shutting his mouth and letting her lead the way.

The cracked stone pathway leading up to the mansion was lined on both sides by twisted, dead trees overgrown with vines and weeds. At the end of the path was a dirty, broken fountain that looked like it hadn't worked for ages. J.J. let Gwen lead him towards the front door of the mansion, which loomed over them in the dimming afternoon light, looking for all the world like it was haunted. Faded white Ionic columns lined the porch, leading up to a pair of double doors decorated with a pair of large bronze lion-head knockers. J.J. glanced over at Gwen warily as she once again produced the key to open the doors.

"You used to live here?" J.J. asked skeptically. "It looks like this place hasn't been used in decades at least."

"What? No, my brother and I live in another part of town," Gwen replied. "But when we were younger, we used to like to play here all the time. There's a lot of cool stuff inside, and we used to have fun poking around, so I discovered several secret passages."

"You're lucky you didn't catch tetanus or something," J.J. remarked dryly. Gwen ignored him, unlocking the doors with an ominous click. She slowly pushed them open, the hinges creaking loudly as they stepped inside.

The main foyer was just as dreary as the exterior. The floorboards were cracked and scuffed, with the main entrance dominated by a dusty and faded Persian rug. Some of the windows had been knocked in, and broken glass littered the floors, which was how J.J. suspected Abby might have gotten in if she had indeed decided to seek refuge in the mansion. Above them hung a glass chandelier, and slightly rusted suits of plate armor lined the walls. A double staircase led up to a second level, where a large heraldic shield was hung in the center of the wall.

"My family's coat of arms," Gwen said, following J.J.'s curious gaze. "Since I know you're into medieval history and all that."

"Yep," J.J. agreed, gazing at the shield. It consisted of alternating black and white diamonds, over which was superimposed a stylized golden crown and a pair of crossed swords. Beneath the shield was a motto that J.J. recognized as Almencian writing, though to his annoyance, he couldn't read it. "Your family's been around for a while, then?" J.J. asked slyly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to see exactly what she knew about her history.

"Yeah, my father always told us that we were from some European country originally. Said it was of the coast of France or Spain or something, but we couldn't find it on a map," Gwen said with a shrug. "Fortunately, we apparently kept track of the bloodline alongside our wealth, so when we came over to America, we were able to found a new settlement. The town grew around it, and while we did have a mayoral election, our family almost always won, especially up through the early 1900's. It was only really after the first World War that people started electing mayors other than Marks' to the position. Even then, we're still pretty wealthy."

"Is that about the time you stopped living in this manor? Because you didn't have the money to pay for the upkeep?" J.J. asked as they began to wander through the halls.

"It's not that. It's just that Old Marville started to get more rundown as the business district grew, so we decided to move closer to the new financial center of the city. We just built a new, smaller manor that wouldn't attract as much attention, but where we could still live in comfort."

"But why didn't you move… all of this?" J.J. asked sweeping his arm around the antiques littering the main foyer.

"My family just didn't want them. We had plans to make the mansion into a museum, but those fell through, so we just… left them behind," Gwen said. "Something about wanting to forget about the past and focus on the future from now on."

"Must be nice to be so wealthy that you can just leave behind treasures like this," J.J. grumbled, stepping closer to examine a suit of armor. "I'm pretty sure this guy could have paid for at least half my college tuition."

"Restoration is expensive, and my brother – who manages our finances – didn't feel that it was worth the cost to repair them. Nor did he want to sell the mansion, since he's kind of sentimental. So he set up security cameras to make sure no one broke in, and all of our stuff was just sort of… left in limbo," Gwen said, looking pensive. J.J. glanced over at her as she shook her head and walked over to him, grabbing his arm. "But come on. Let's go find your missing girlfriend, shall we?"

J.J. didn't bother to rise to the bait of telling her Abby wasn't his girlfriend, instead letting her drag him down a hallway towards an old library, where dusty books lined the shelves and faded leather chairs had waited for decades for someone to sit in them. J.J. walked over to the shelves, his mouth hanging slightly open as he began to examine the titles.

"Alright… _this_ is a travesty," J.J. protested, gazing at the volumes. "I can't believe you didn't take these with you. Mind if I take a look?"

"Mm? Go for it," Gwen said absently, gazing around the room like she was looking for something. "Like I said, my brother wanted more modern books, so he didn't feel the need to move these to our new manor."

"Yeah, but…." J.J. whispered, horrified at the way the books had been treated. "I'm amazed none of these were stolen." He pulled a volume of _The Adventures of Robin Hood_ off the shelf and flipped it open to the date page, where he saw that it had been written in 1836. He shook his head in disgust, reluctantly closing the book and placing it reverently back on the shelf. "If your brother doesn't want these books, I might take them for myself," he muttered.

"Feel free," Gwen shrugged. "Like I said, he has no interest."

"Wait… really?" J.J. said hopefully, his eyes lighting up like he'd just been told Christmas had come early. "Mind if I run out and put this in my bag really quick then?"

"Fine, fine," Gwen said impatiently. "I'll be checking around to see if these punks stole anything. Come find me when you're done. Just hurry back, will you?" J.J. grinned at her and jogged outside, hurrying over to the backpack he had left slung over one of the handlebars of the bike. He put the book gently in one of the open pouches with a gleeful smile. That expression dropped immediately, however, as a piercing scream from inside the mansion filled the open air. J.J.'s eyes widened, and he shouted, "Quill!"

The diary's pen wriggled out of his jeans and flew into his hand. He clicked the bottom, extending it out into its sword form. Briefly, he considered transforming, but he was worried he didn't have enough time. He'd been training with Tristan long enough that he was fairly confident that he could beat a couple of Shards. If she'd run into Abby in her Diemon form, he could transform then.

Bursting through the front door, he saw Gwen in the library, backing away from a teenage boy in black, who was approaching her with outstretched arms. She had grabbed a few books and was throwing the at the kid, but he didn't seem to be affected by them, even as one of them smacked him in the face. J.J. whistled sharply to draw the boy's attention, and he turned with a snarl. Even at this distance, J.J. saw that he had bloodshot eyes and dark bags on his lower eyelids. He seemed almost feral as he turned and charged at J.J. instead.

J.J. braced himself, whispering to the quill, "Blunt the edge." The sword seemed to tighten up in his hand, and when the kid was in range, he stepped in and smacked him firmly across the chest with the flat of the blade. The boy grunted, doubling up in pain, and before he had a chance to recover, J.J. turned quickly and smacked him across the face with the dull edge of his sword.

The boy crumpled to the floor immediately, and J.J. blinked in surprise, straightening up from his crouched stance. He hadn't expected the fight to be over that quickly. Gwen hurried over to him, looking down at the unconscious form on the ground.

"J.J…. that was incredible," she murmured, before poking the boy with his toe. "Did you knock him out or something?"

"Maybe, but I didn't hit him that hard," J.J. admitted, kneeling down to turn the boy over. To his surprise, the boy was unconscious, but judging by the light snoring sounds coming from him, he'd fallen asleep. J.J. gave the boy a bemused look before glancing up at Gwen, who shrugged.

"He looked really worn out, like he hasn't slept in days," J.J. commented as he stood up. Maybe Abby had been keeping him awake all this time, demanding he worship her even when he should have been sleeping. But if she was actively using the powers of the D-former, why hadn't it been picked up by his diary?

"More importantly, where'd you learn to fight like that?" Gwen asked, awestruck. J.J. blinked at her in surprise, then gave her an uncomfortable grin.

"Oh, that's… why I've been going off with Tristan the last few days," J.J. said, again telling a half-truth. "He's a trained swordsman, and I was hoping that learning how to use a sword myself might add an element of realism to my writing. At the very least, it'd make my fight scenes more believable, if I knew what a swordsman can and can't do."

Gwen continued to stare at him for several moments before she said bluntly, "You're Kamen Rider Page, aren't you?"

Upstairs, a grandfather clock chimed in the silence that followed her accusation. J.J. felt his heart stop at those words, and he began to sweat. "What? No, of course not," he said quickly, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "Why would you even think that? That's quite a leap from 'you learned how to use a sword.'"

"No… you _are_ Page! That's the same sword he uses! And you wouldn't be denying it so much otherwise!" Gwen pointed out, her face breaking out into a wide grin. "This is awesome! Plus, that'd explain why you were running off all the time, if you were the one dealing with those…." Her eyes suddenly widened, her grin fading immediately. "You were fighting monsters this entire time?! Are you insane?! You could have gotten yourself killed!" She reached up, smacking him upside the head as he winced. "What were you thinking?!"

"W-well, it's a good thing I wasn't-" J.J. began, but Gwen grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him down to her eye level.

"Quit lying to me, J.J. Wells," she growled. "Tell me what's going on."

J.J. blinked at her, then sighed, prying her fingers off his shirt. "Fine. Yeah, you're right about me. Look, I didn't get into this because I wanted to. A few weeks ago, I found a diary in the basement of the library, and I also found Tristan. Turns out he's a knight from a thousand years ago," he said, watching Gwen's face. She was keeping her expression carefully neutral, save for the occasional widening of her eyes. "Turns out there's some sort of curse starting soon, where monsters are going to start reappearing in the city, and people – knights, rather – have to stop them. As bad luck would have it, at the moment I'm the only one who has the ability to beat them."

"You're the only one?" Gwen echoed skeptically. "Come on, there must be someone better suited to doing this. You're not a fighter, you're an author."

"Believe me, I know!" J.J. sighed. "You have no idea what I've been through the last couple of weeks. I've wanted to end this whole thing quickly, but more Diemons – what we call those monsters – keep popping up. I've seen the cops try to fight them, and bullets don't have any effect. Maybe if we called in an airstrike or something to level the town, that might work, but it's pretty obvious why we don't want that. The only thing I've found that's effective against the Diemons is that suited form, which is why I have to keep fighting. Otherwise, people are going to get hurt, and I can't let that happen."

Gwen pursed her lips, sweeping her arm around the mansion. "So that's why we're looking for this Abby girl right now, too? Because she's one of these… Diemons, you called them?" She thought about it, then added, "That's a terrible pun, by the way."

"I'm aware," J.J. said dryly. "And yeah, that's why we're here. She's got some sort of power to hypnotize boys into doing what she wants. I'm guessing she's been keeping them around as her own little harem. From the looks of it, she's already running them ragged," he said, nudging the unconscious boy with his toe. "And I want to put a stop to this before she does something worse."

"Okay, fair enough. Then answer me this," Gwen said. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Why didn't you just tell me you were a Marks?" J.J. replied simply. "You were the one saying people are entitled to their secrets. I don't want that kind of attention any more than you do. Besides, would you really have believed me if I'd said I was the armored vigilante?"

"I believe you now," Gwen replied, shrugging. "With everything weird that's been happening lately – monsters running around and whatnot – it's not the weirdest thing I've had to come to terms with lately. But this explains so much about why you've been acting weird lately, and why you kept skipping out on running games for us! Ugh, and to think, I was getting so mad at you too!"

"Well… sorry," J.J. said sheepishly. "It's just not something I wanted spread around."

"And you think I would? If you want this kept secret, I can keep my mouth shut," Gwen assured him. "But you should really tell the other guys at the tavern. They're your friends too, right? How many other people know?"

"Aside from Tristan? Ryan does. He was that orc you might have heard about a couple weeks ago," J.J. said, chuckling as he noticed Gwen's blank look.

"Okay, see, _that_ I find hard to believe," she said shortly. "Anyone else? Gary?"

"No. The only other person is Susumu – that mechanic down the road from Gary's tavern – and that's only because he lent me the motorcycle I've been riding around on," J.J. said. "And I don't want this spread around the tavern. Someone might let it slip, and then I'd never have any damn privacy. So _please_ keep this to yourself. When I'm ready to tell the others, I will. I promise."

Gwen sighed, brushing her fingers absently through her hair. "…Fine," she agreed finally. "But for now, let's get back on track and find this girl. If she's pretending that she's Lady Rose, she'll be in the lower levels."

"The basement?" J.J. asked warily, noticing the way she'd said that last bit.

"The catacombs," Gwen replied, a smirk crossing her face as she saw J.J. go pale.

"Why… do you have catacombs?" J.J. asked hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"It's a family tradition to bury its members and servants inside the house," Gwen said, her grin broadening as she saw how uncomfortable she was making him. "Why, are you afraid?"

"Not unless the catacombs have fire traps in them," J.J. replied dryly. "Did you at least bring a flashlight?"

"Yep!" she replied cheerfully, motioning for J.J. to follow her. She led him back into the foyer and down another spiral staircase into a basement, consisting mostly of an empty wine cellar, save for a few bottles. Gwen scowled, peering at one of the empty spaces.

"Tsk! They took one of the 1906 vintages. Probably don't even know how to taste it properly," she muttered. Behind her, J.J. snickered, and she swung around to raise an eyebrow at him.

"What? I've never seen you acting… 'rich' before. It's kind of adorable," he said. "Besides, weren't you the one who said you didn't care about the stuff left behind here?"

Gwen glowered at him. "I care when they're drinking wine that predated the first World War like they're downing Jello shots at a frat party." Huffing, she turned back around and led him through the cellar towards what looked like a storage closet. She pushed her way inside the narrow space and felt along the back wall until she smirked and found something. There was a loud click and the door swung open, revealing a dark passageway leading down.

"The cops didn't do a very good job of searching this place," J.J. commented as he followed Gwen, who produced a flashlight from her pocket and clicked it on.

"Even search parties can miss hidden passages like this. We wanted it kept that way," Gwen explained as they descended a flight of stairs that reminded J.J. of the passageway leading into the lower levels of the cathedral.

"But then how did a bunch of teenagers find it?" J.J. asked rhetorically, peering over her shoulder as they walked, trying not to lose his footing on the smooth stone.

"Have you ever tried to keep a teenager's nose out of something?" Gwen snorted. "They seem to find a way into everything. Besides, this isn't the only entrance into the catacombs. It's just one of the easiest to access. They could have found an alternate way in."

A chill ran through J.J. as the spiral staircase came to an end and they faced a narrow passageway leading straight ahead. Some of the torches had already been lit, providing a dim path for the pair to follow. Deep holes were carved into the stone walls on either side of them, with a stone coffin placed inside of each one, along with a plaque detailing the name and lifespan of the occupant. Gwen noticed J.J. examining one of the plaques and smiled lightly.

"Interesting, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice echoing in the corridor. "These tombs date back to the eighteenth century, but some of the bodies are even older than that. Our family had a… weird thing about bringing the past along with us."

"You don't say," J.J. said sarcastically, thinking back to Tristan, who was over a thousand years old. "Any reason why?"

"Preserving history is important?" Gwen shrugged. "Or maybe we just wanted to hold on to our glory days when we were high nobility back in Europe. Either way, it doesn't matter now. Lead the way. If we run into trouble, you're the one with the sword."

J.J. slipped in front of her and crept forward, with Gwen shining the light behind him to help him see. As they slowly traveled through the narrow corridors, he grew increasingly nervous. He preferred to have more room to move around when he was fighting, and while his style did allow him movement in a straight line, he was less sure of his blocking and parrying compared to his dodging in terms of defensive options. That, coupled with the fact that he now had to protect Gwen, had him on edge. He again considered transforming, but with the wide range of the shield that always surrounded him when he did, he was worried about damaging the foundations of the catacombs and bringing everything down on top of them.

Thankfully, they were able to walk down two corridors without incident before they encountered someone. The figure was doubled over, huddled in the middle of a set of torches, muttering to himself. J.J. felt fear clench in his chest, and behind him he felt Gwen grab his left hand and grip it tightly. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting go, needing to be free to move in case the boy attacked. As they approached, the boy's head slowly turned towards them, and even in the low light, J.J. could see his wild-eyed expression. Suddenly, the boy stood and ran towards them, panting.

J.J. stepped back, holding his blade out in front of him in a fencer's stance, but he hesitated when the figure called out, "J.J.!" Suddenly, the boy collided with him, grabbing his shoulders, and in the dim light J.J. made out the haggard face of Kevin. He was pale and grimy, his black hair hanging into his bloodshot eyes, and as he gripped J.J.'s arms, he could feel how weak the young man was.

"J.J.!" he croaked again, sounding as if he hadn't spoken in days. "Thank god you're here! You've gotta save us! No… wait… you've gotta get out of here, before she gets you too!"

"Kevin! Easy, man, calm down," J.J. said soothingly, gripping the young man's arms to steady him. "What happened?"

"She's crazy, man!" Kevin gasped, looking furtively over his shoulder, as if expecting to find someone there. "She's kept us in here for days! She doesn't ever sleep… she just demands we keep worshipping her! She's so… alluring when you're in her presence, but get out of it long enough and the spell just sort of breaks! She sent a few of us on errands to get food and stuff, and when we were… I dunno, out of range, the spell over us broke! We meant to escape! I tried to, but now, I'm so lost… so lost…!"

"Do you know where she is now?" J.J. asked. Kevin's eyes went, if possible, even wider with fright.

"She could be anywhere," Kevin muttered, looking over his shoulder again. "She might even be here now. She might have come looking for us! Sometimes… sometimes I can hear footsteps. Is it her? No… if she's not coming for us…. she's in the main chamber, where all the biggest tombs are kept. She likes it there," Kevin stammered. "But I don't want to go back there! Please, we've got to get out of here!"

J.J. glanced over his shoulder at Gwen, who stared at him intently. "Do you know how to get there from here?"

Gwen nodded. "We're not far. About a quarter mile from here. I know the way."

"You're… you're going towards her?!" Kevin squeaked. "I have to go, man! I have to get out…."

"Gwen, mind giving Kevin directions on how to get out from here?" J.J. asked. Gwen nodded and gave Kevin a brief rundown of how many turns to take. Kevin's eyes widened like a dying man given a second chance at life.

"You two… thank you so much! Once I'm out of here, I'll get the cops! They can search for anyone else who might have gotten lost down here. There were twelve of us, but three of us left."

"Good idea," J.J. nodded. "And Kevin… get some coffee too. You look like you're about to pass out."

Kevin let out a wild, tittering laugh, bordering on madness, as he clambered past J.J. towards freedom. J.J. watched him go, then sighed and looked over at Gwen. "You'd better go with him."

"Nuh-uh," Gwen said firmly, shaking her head. "You'd get lost down here without me. You're stuck with me until we deal with this chick."

J.J. sighed, but decided not to argue. Gwen guided him down the maze-like tunnels, muttering under her breath as she tried to remember obscure directions. It took them another fifteen minutes, but eventually the tunnels opened into a massive chamber. The walls were lined with stone statues overlooking marble coffins, and in the center of the room was a throne carved out of rock, flanked on either side by lit torches. Sitting on the throne was Abby, who was surrounded by four young men in black, prostrating themselves before her. She was idly rolling her D-former between her fingers as she gazed at J.J. while he approached her.

"I thought I heard you coming," she commented lazily, resting her head on her fist as J.J. approached her, slipping his diary out of his pocket. "So, finally come to dance in the darkness, have we?"

"Yeah, this seems like a great way to spend the next ten years or so," J.J. quipped, glancing around at the coffins. "It's the company that makes living down here worthwhile."

"I've always been alone," Abby sighed, looking down at a boy resting his head in her lap, her fingers lightly brushing through his hair. "At least here I can be queen."

"Pretend," J.J. corrected her. "You can pretend to be queen of… whatever it is you're doing. But you know as well as I do that those boys you're playing with wouldn't give you a second glance if it wasn't for that jewel. You're not the Queen of the Midnight Rose or whatever it is, Abby. You're scared and lonely."

"What would you know about it?" Abby snapped at him.

"Do you think you're the only one that had it hard as a teenager?!" J.J. shouted at her suddenly, and she rocked back in her chair, surprised by the anger in his voice. Gwen likewise gave him a sidelong glance. "You're not the only one who's felt lonely and isolated!" Lowering his voice, he continued, "That's part of being a teenager. Everyone who's gone through adolescence has felt that way at some point. But… I can't believe I have to tell you how wrong it is to kidnap these guys just so you can _pretend_ you're not lonely for a little while! Even surrounded by all these guys, do you feel like any of them really care about you?"

Abby lowered her eyes. J.J. continued, "Exactly. You know as well as I do that you don't belong down here. No one does, except for the dead. So let's put an end to this and get out of here."

"No… I am dead," Abby murmured, slowly looking up at J.J. Her paramours began to back away from her as she stood up from her throne. "I am one of the undead! I'm the queen of the sanguine darkness!"

Gripping her D-former, she began to transform back into her vampiric form. J.J. glanced over his shoulder at Gwen and said softly, "I have two questions. Is there anything wooden in here, and are these catacombs ventilated?"

"No, and yes," Gwen replied as the boys began to run past her. "Why?"

"Just needed to confirm before I try something. Do me a favor and step back out of this corridor. I'm not sure how much control I have, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Control over what?" Gwen asked, backing away as J.J. opened the diary and held it next to his cheek as Abby stood before him in her vampiric form, claws extended as she crouched low.

"Please just do as I asked," J.J. insisted, before turning back to face Abby. "Henshin!" he called, his voice echoing off the smooth stone walls as his Fantasy Driver appeared around his waist. He quickly slotted the book in the buckle and spun his D-former.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** his driver shouted as he was surrounded by the holographic amber crystal. As it finished spinning, he stood in front of Abby in his suited form, twirling his sword once in his hand taking a moment to glance over his shoulder to see if Gwen had indeed done as he had asked. When he saw that she was no longer in the room, he turned back around. To his shock and annoyance, he saw that Abby had disappeared.

"Isn't this familiar?" Abby's screeching voice echoed off the walls, laughing maniacally. "Remember what happened the last time we did this? Tell me, can you even see me?"

J.J. didn't bother answering. He'd studied her stats in the diary, and one of her abilities was to activate some sort of camouflage that rendered her effectively invisible. There was no point in looking around for her.

"You're afraid! You can't even move!" Abby taunted him. "That's okay, though. You're only human. And you humans don't know how to deal with creatures of the night like me!"

"Well… that's not entirely true," J.J. replied, putting his thumb on the black D-former sticking out of the spine of his book. "If you want to get rid of the darkness, all you have to do is turn on a light."

He dragged his thumb over the D-former, spinning it, and immediately he was surrounded by a holographic black die, which spun around him. As it did, the Driver shouted into the darkness, **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** The declaration was followed by the sound of softly tinkling chimes.

As the spinning stopped, J.J. was clad in a new outfit that blended in well with the low light around him. His brown jerkin had turned jet-black. The diamond pattern had been smoothed out, leaving him garbed in a black tunic, and a black mantle with thin white lining around the edges was wrapped around his shoulders and the upper part of his chest and back. The lower part of his jerkin had opened in the front, while the cloth in the back extended past his thighs and split down the middle to form a sort of twin-tailed half skirt, also lined with white. The boots were also sable, and flared at the tops, lined with thin stripes of silver. The plates over his ears had shifted their shape as well, now resembling raised black stars. The rhombuses that made up his "eyes" now seemed to be made of opal, and the rest of his helmet had likewise turned black, though the lining of the rhombuses and the sword in the center of the heraldic design were still silver. His sword had changed shape as well, as he was now gripping a simple ebony staff topped with a white crystal in his right hand.

"Oooh, I like that look!" Abby cackled. "Now you look like a real denizen of the night! Maybe you want to dance in the sanguine darkness with me after all?"

J.J. ignored her, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. He'd only had a few short practice sessions with Tristan and Susumu to try and figure out how the magical class worked. It had been difficult figuring it out. After all, it wasn't like either of his mentors had any experience casting spells.

* * *

"Maybe it's based on emotion?" Susumu had suggested, while J.J. stood in front of the garage in Mage Class, staring blankly at his staff. "Agni used his anger to cast fire, right? Maybe it's the same thing?"

J.J. shrugged, aiming his staff at the practice dummy they had set up. He conjured up a painful memory in his mind, gritting his teeth as he remembered when he left his hometown to-!

Suddenly, an enormous jet of flame shot forth from the staff, engulfing the practice dummy in a twenty-foot blaze. J.J. let out a yell of terror as Tristan and Susumu jumped backwards. He dropped the staff on the ground, and the flames immediately stopped, with J.J. left shaking his hands to cool them.

"Okay! Anger is _not_ what I'm going to use!" J.J. yelled. He could feel himself trembling as he stared at the dying flames on the sackcloth dummy in front of him. Tristan came up behind him with a fire extinguisher and turned it on the dummy while J.J. watched. As the fire went out, Susumu blankly looked at him, then shrugged and sprayed him with the freezing mist as well.

"Hey!" J.J. shouted, dancing out of the way as Susumu laughed, setting down the extinguisher.

"Thought you needed something to snap you out of the panic attack you were about to have," Susumu said calmly. "You're going to have hell if you're afraid of your own magic."

"I was under the impression you had conquered your fear of flames, page?" Tristan asked skeptically.

"I'm not going to get over a fear just because I won a single fight!" J.J. snapped, snatching up the staff.

"Do you want to stop?" Susumu asked gently.

"No. It's not like I'll be able to ignore this and magically learn how to cast spells without practicing first," J.J. sighed, slowing his breathing. "You might be onto something about emotion controlling magic, but… fire isn't an element that reacts well to passion. That's how you get wildfires, I think."

"Mm? Then what are you thinking?" Susumu asked.

J.J. closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. His grip on the staff relaxed, and he opened his eyes again, focusing instead on projecting a thin, controlled line of fire at the dummy. At first, nothing happened, so he pressed himself a little more. Slowly, like a hose being turned on, a jet of fire streamed forth from the tip of his staff like a flamethrower, to the awe of Susumu and Tristan.

"Excellent!" Susumu cried. "I think you're onto something!"

J.J. nodded, grinning behind his helmet. "Now I just need to practice a bit more…."

* * *

"So how are you going to fight?" Abby taunted him. "How are you going to hit what you can't even see?"

"I have to see you," J.J. replied, tightening his grip on his staff. Checking one more time to make sure Gwen and the boys were indeed out of the room, he concentrated and loosed a jet of fire, swinging his staff as he did to send it flying in a broad arc towards one wall. The flames bounced harmlessly off of the stone walls, but he heard Abby shriek in surprise. Turning around, he swung again, sending another burst of flame towards the other wall. He wasn't trying to do much damage at the moment; simply hitting her with the fire was enough.

"Stop it! That's dangerous!" Abby's voice came from his left. J.J. again tightened his hold on his staff, swinging it towards the sound of her voice. This time, he saw the flame bend around a patch of space, and Abby's scream of pain and terror filled the room. J.J. winced sympathetically as he pointed his staff towards the spot in the air.

He briefly tightened his muscles, gripping the staff firmly, and he let out a soft yell, psyching himself up a bit. A small fireball erupted from the tip of his staff, striking Abby in the stomach. The girl screamed again, her outline doubling up. J.J. yelled again and pelted her with two more fireballs. When the third one impacted with her, her camouflage failed and she dropped to her knees, whimpering.

J.J. felt a wave of pity as he stood over her, but he pointed the staff at her again to finish her off. Abby glanced up and suddenly lunged at him, her claws outstretched. J.J. was caught off-guard, but managed to bring his staff up in time to catch her attack. His mage form was a bit faster than his base form, so his reaction time had improved, though not to the point where he could hope to match her in a contest of speed. She seemed to realize this and reached under his staff, her talons raking across his chest.

J.J. grunted, took the blow, and rolled backwards, landing in a low crouch as he hissed in pain. He knew his defense was weaker in this form, and that he couldn't afford to take many hits. Likewise, he hadn't swung at her with his staff to knock her away because his melee offense was abysmal; he doubted that he even had the strength to push her back. His best option in that instance was to take the hit and get some range on her.

As Abby tried to shake off the pain of being burned, J.J. took a moment to strategize. In the back of his mind, he was worried that he'd made the wrong decision. Mage Class was best suited for fighting at long distance, where he could constantly press an offensive assault from a safe range. Though Abby had boxed herself into this room, he was likewise at a disadvantage in this form. He briefly considered switching over to Warrior Class again, but he knew that if he tried to trip her by damaging the catacombs, he could bring the entire structure down on them. Plus, he had a feeling that the same trick wouldn't work twice on her. Mage Class was still his best bet, especially since it had one major advantage in close quarters that he hadn't used yet.

While Abby had been resting, J.J. had been gathering his energy. He saw her smirk and suddenly vanish before his eyes. Gripping the staff again, he released the energy he had been gathering in his muscles, pointing the tip of his staff at the ground and spinning in a tight circle. He was immediately surrounded by flames, and he felt the familiar panic rising in his chest as fire filled his vision. Ruthlessly suppressing his fear, he pointed the staff forward, and the flames magically obeyed, the circle expanding around him. To his left, he heard Abby shriek, her voice growing fainter as she backed away from the approaching wall of fire. J.J. turned towards the sound of her voice, her form flickering back into the visible spectrum as she pressed herself against one corner, trying to stay as far away from the flames as possible.

J.J. gave her a look of pity from behind his mask, as he knew exactly how she felt. However, this was the only way he could think of to beat her, and if it knocked her out of her Diemon form, so be it. He put his hand on the black D-former and spun it once again. The resounding shout of **"Critical!"** echoed off the walls of the chamber as J.J. was briefly surrounded by the black die again before it shrunk and coalesced on the end of his staff. The tip of his staff began glowing brightly, and J.J. felt his energy being drained into a steadily growing ball of flame at the end of his staff.

He looked down to see Abby staring at him, her eyes wide with fear. Through the flames, J.J. suspected he looked like a merciless demon. Shrugging off that thought, he lowered his staff, pointing it at her. She was trapped between the wall of flames and the stone corner behind her, and J.J. knew his shot couldn't miss.

Releasing the energy all at once, an enormous fireball exploded out of the end of his staff, sending J.J. stumbling backwards from the recoil. The magical fire slammed into Abby with the force of a cannonball, searing her and knocking her back from the concussive blast it had unleashed. The girl screamed in pain, falling to her knees as dark blue cracks began to lance across her skin.

J.J. waved his staff at the flames, which sputtered and died, once more engulfing them in darkness, except for the dim light of the still-burning torches. J.J. turned away from her and pulled his diary out of his belt, reverting to Adventurer Class as he did. Idly, he turned to her stats page and watched her health bar dwindle down to zero, at which point he heard her scream one last time behind him, followed by the sound of shattering glass as her Diemon form disappeared. J.J. snapped the book shut and turned back around, walking over to where Abby was unconscious on the floor.

Under her, he saw the scrap of parchment detailing her vampiric form, which he picked up and placed into his book, letting it magically bind itself to the inside of the diary. He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned around in time to see Gwen running into the room. She stopped short in front of him, panting as she noticed the prone form of Abby on the ground.

"Is she…?" Gwen asked hesitantly. J.J., however, smiled behind his helmet as he pulled his amber D-former out of his diary, powering down from his armored form.

"I haven't killed anyone yet doing this, and I don't intend to start now," J.J. assured her. "But former Diemons tend to pass out after I beat them. Maybe it's the strain of losing all that energy at once or something, I dunno."

Gwen nodded, then frowned as she noticed Abby still clutching her blue D-former. "Shouldn't you take that from her?"

J.J. glanced down at her again, then shook his head. "Tristan warned me that forcibly separating someone from a D-former can cause a sort of withdrawal, so I haven't forced anyone to give those jewels up. Besides, I suspect they can't become a Diemon without a contract page," he added, opening his diary to show her Abby's completed stats sheet. "Both Ryan and a guy named Agni willingly gave their D-formers to me after I beat them. If she wants to do the same, that's her decision. I won't force her to give it up."

"Noble," Gwen said blandly, not sounding convinced. "In any case, the police will probably be here within an hour or so, assuming Kevin went straight to them. If not, I'll give them a call. We should get out of here in the meantime. I've had enough 'dancing in the darkness' for one lifetime."

"Agreed," J.J. sighed, walking over to Abby's prone form and grunting as he lifted her arm over his shoulder to carry her out of the catacombs. "Let's never come back down here."

"Oh, and J.J.? Next time, don't light my ancestors on fire," Gwen added bluntly, sweeping her arm at the surrounding coffins. J.J. winced. A fine layer of soot now coated most of the stone, and while it all seemed undamaged, there was a huge mess he would have had to spend hours cleaning up.

"Ah… well… I'm sure you can afford hiring someone to clean it up if you really care," J.J. said with a weak grin, trying to ignore Gwen glowering at him as he carried Abby's unconscious form towards the exit.

* * *

A few days later, J.J. was sitting at a round table with Gwen and Tristan, the latter of whom was pouting while idly stirring his glass of water with a straw.

"I still can scarcely believe you did not contact me to inform me about your sojourn into the tombs of the Marks family," Tristan reiterated for what felt like the eighth time, while J.J. gave him a nonplussed look. "I would have relished the opportunity to pay proper respect to one of the great noble families of Almencia."

"Learn how to use a phone. Then maybe I'll invite you next time," J.J. said dryly. "Besides, this one wouldn't let me out of her sight anyways," he added, jerking his thumb at Gwen, who smugly smiled.

"At least you protected the lady properly," Tristan praised him, inclining his head once again towards Gwen. "I do hope the page did nothing to dishonor you or your family."

"Other than roasting part of my family tomb? Not really," Gwen giggled, sticking her tongue out at J.J., who glared at her while Tristan glared at him in turn.

"For the last time, that's why I asked you if there was anything flammable! You said it was fine!" J.J. sighed.

"Actually, you didn't. You just asked if anything was made of wood. You did not say, 'Keep your head down, because I'm about to go full pyromaniac on hundreds of years of history. Bring the fire extinguisher!'" Gwen teased him.

Before J.J. could retort, the door opened, and three pairs of eyes turned to see Abby slink inside. The girl's dark style hadn't changed, but much of her haughtiness was gone, replaced by a sheepish, shy demeanor that fit her dark appearance much better in J.J.'s opinion. She glanced around, spotted J.J. and Gwen, and immediately retreated to a dark corner. As Gary went to attend to her, J.J. shot a glance at the pair at his own table, who nodded to him. J.J. smiled, pushing himself up to go talk to Abby.

"Coffee, please?" J.J. heard Abby ask shyly.

"Anything in it?" Gary asked, scribbling on a pad

"Lots of cream, with caramel, please," Abby replied. Gary nodded, wandering off to take care of her order.

"Really? I thought the queen of darkness would want her coffee black," J.J. teased her gently, slipping into the seat across from her. Abby squeaked, looking away from him.

"I don't… I've kind of dropped that persona," Abby murmured, unable to look him in the eye. "I still like vampire novels and everything, but… after everything I did to those guys, all the trouble I put them through… it's just not as romantic anymore. And I could have hurt you as well…."

"That comes with the territory with what I've been doing lately. I don't resent you for it," J.J. assured her, crossing his arms on the table. "Those D-formers tend to screw with your mind, I've found. How was the hearing? I take it the judge went easy on you?"

"I have two hundred hours of community service and have to see a therapist," Abby murmured. "But none of the families are pressing charges beyond that, thankfully. Most of them just think their sons were just acting stupid for a little while. I hear a lot of them are in trouble. Because of me. Oh, and here," she added, holding out her blue D-former to him. "You're collecting these, right? I don't want this anymore."

"Right," J.J. said, taking the die from her. His diary immediately opened a new slot for him to fit it in, and he slotted it and slipped it back into his pocket. "What was your real reason for wanting it, though, if I might ask?"

"I just… wanted someone who liked me for who I am and was also into what I like. This isn't a huge city, and most people think of me as a freak. Having a bunch of guys around me, listening to me without judging me… it was nice. Even though they didn't really share my interests, just having them listen politely was enough. So when this guy wearing a black robe told me he could let me live out my fantasies…."

. "I get being lonely, Abby. I really do," J.J. said softly. "I was lonely through most of my teenage years as well. I was always the geeky kid that got picked on by everyone. It gets better as you get older, but in the meantime, you find ways to cope. Your way was just… taken way too far. But you'll find someone who likes the same things you do one day. You still have plenty of time."

"…Yeah," Abby sighed, glancing up and nodding at Gary as he set the coffee in front of her. "That's what my mom keeps saying anyways. She does seem happy to have me back, and she said she was sorry that she'd been working so much lately, and not spending as much time with me as she used to. At least one good thing came out of this, I guess."

"Maybe two," J.J. said with a smile, holding up his hand as he walked over to his bag. Reaching inside, he withdrew a hardcover book, walking back over to her with it. Abby's eyes widened as she saw the cover.

"This is the latest Cynthia Fawning book! And it's… autographed?!" she gasped, staring up at him, her mouth agape. "How did you-?"

"I have a few contacts," J.J. said with a smug grin, slipping into the seat across from her again. "And I figured you could use a pick-me-up after everything you've been through."

Abby stared at the book, dumbstruck, before looking up at him slowly. A smile slowly spread across her face, and her green eyes seemed to glow brighter. "You're… single, aren't you?"

"…I'm sorry what?" J.J. asked with a blank look. He suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck from behind as Gwen pounced on him. He let out a choking sound as he tried to disentangle her hold on him.

"He's taken, sorry," Gwen told the girl. J.J.'s eyes widened as he turned to stare at Gwen, bewildered.

"I am?" he asked numbly. Gwen gave him a pointed look.

"Oh… yeah, I kind of got that sense when I saw you two," Abby sighed. "I'm not surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised."

"Wait, hold on, since when-?" J.J. began, but Gwen put her hand over his mouth.

"In the meantime, you don't get to shirk on your duties anymore, loverboy," Gwen announced loudly. "We've got Ryan here as well. You owe me a game session!"

J.J. was still trying to figure out what'd just happened when he noticed Gary and Ryan both staring at him expectantly from across the room. Sighing, he pulled Gwen's arms off his neck. "Fine, fine," he said wearily. "Since it seems like I don't get to decide anything right now anyways, let's just get this started." He paused and glanced at Abby, smiling at her lightly. "Why don't you join us? At least watch and see if you like it."

"Oh… I was just going to read…." Abby said apologetically.

"Suit yourself. Guess you didn't want to hear about the vampire den I had planned for this session. I thought it'd be a good hook for a new character for someone to play," J.J. baited her, airily waving at her over his shoulder.

Abby hesitated, then said slowly, "I… guess seeing how this game works couldn't hurt."

J.J. grinned cheekily as he slipped into his familiar seat at the head of the table as Gary, Gwen, and Ryan took their places in front of him and Tristan stood off to the side, watching with his arms folded. "Alright then. Everyone's got their dice, right? So, you've been traveling for three days with the captive gorgon tied to the back of one of your horses. That evening, as an eerie fog begins to roll in, you come to a halt outside of what looks like an abandoned inn…."


	8. Session 8

**Session 8**

"What do you mean I can't store any more D-formers?" J.J. hissed to his diary. The quill twitched with what he swore was impatience before rapidly scribbling a response.

 _Exactly what was stated. Your body can currently handle three other variations of your base form, but any more would prove dangerous to both your own health and the stability of this diary. This is an alchemical creation, not a magical one. There are limits on what can be done._

J.J. ran his hand over his face, glancing over his shoulder briefly to make sure no one was standing behind him. He had been in the middle of one of his shifts in the library when his diary had buzzed to inform him that his latest form had been completed. Thankfully, things had been quiet in the city lately. It had been a couple of weeks, and the worst anyone had seen around town was a couple of Shards. It had felt almost like a break to him, as he'd finally had time to work on his book and relax at Gary's tavern rather than constantly worrying about when the next Diemon might attack. When he'd read that his new form was ready, he had initially been excited, as he'd thought this was just a cherry on top of how good the last couple of weeks had been. However, this new information put a damper on his good spirits.

"Then how am I supposed to deal with Diemons from now on?" J.J. whispered to the diary. "If I can't take their D-formers so they can't transform, how am I supposed to go about beating them without killing them?"

 _Unknown. Perhaps you can simply keep hold of the D-formers without using them?_ the quill suggested.

J.J. frowned at the diary. "You don't know? Weren't you created to answer questions about the Diemons?"

 _I cannot produce answers without being provided data,_ the quill scribbled. _The fact that until now you could obtain D-formers without their users suffering withdrawal was not something that was previously known, and it is fortunate that it has worked until now. As of this time, it is unknown if future Diemons can be dealt with nonlethally. All I can state with certainty is that any further attempts to create new forms using other D-formers will result in destabilization of this diary and potential harm to you. I cannot allow this, for the sake of your own safety._

"Nice to know you care," J.J. muttered, sighing in frustration. "Fine. At least, thanks for letting me know. In the meantime… I suppose I'll just have to figure something out. Go ahead and take a break, I won't bother you with this anymore."

 _Acknowledged,_ the quill responded, before wriggling back under the bindings of the book much like a cat trying to burrow its way under a blanket. Despite the pit in his stomach from this latest news, J.J. smiled to himself as that comparison crossed his mind. He snapped the book shut, stuffing it back into his jeans before deciding to get back to work. He would deal with this later.

As he wheeled his cart of books around, he realized how little he really knew about his powers and how they worked. Like the diary had said, he had lucked into the idea of using new forms, especially since it had also been a convenient way to beat Diemons without worrying about killing anyone. That said, he hadn't tried experimenting with what the diary could do out of fear of what might happen if he touched the wrong button, so to speak. He'd dutifully kept increasing his stats when he'd been given them, distributing them evenly, so that now his base form was sitting at elevens and twelves across the board, compared to the tens they had been initially. Beyond that, though, he had avoided studying the diary, or even giving it over to Susumu to look over the way Tristan had with his own trinket. It wasn't as though J.J. hadn't considered asking the mechanic for help, of course, but Susumu had been having little luck studying Tristan's Driver, so J.J. just assumed he wouldn't be able to help him either. In fact, the only person who might know more about his belt was Tristan himself. Fortunately, J.J. thought with a smile, he wouldn't have to go far to find the knight.

He wheeled his cart around and headed towards one of the large tables near the computer lounge. Tristan sat alone at the head of one of them, intently studying a scattered collection of maps and encyclopedias that took up half of one of the tables. Even as J.J. passed in front of him, he didn't look up, instead muttering under his breath as he scanned a large textbook. Quietly, J.J. came up beside him and put a hand on Tristan's shoulder to get his attention. The older man jumped slightly, startled, before turning to face him.

"You alright there?" J.J. asked as Tristan sat back and rolled his stiff shoulders. "You've been staring at those books for the last two hours, like you're expecting them to teach you how to make the elixir of life."

"Could they?" Tristan asked, seeming mildly intrigued.

"If they can, I have yet to find the recipe," J.J. replied, slipping into one of the seats beside Tristan and tilting his head. "Can you even read these? I know Rachel said that your English is getting better, but I think these are a bit advanced for you."

"No, I simply asked her the combination of letters that spell out the word 'Almencia,' and I have been attempting to find it in these books," Tristan explained. "So far, my search has proven fruitless, I am sorry to say."

"Almencia? Why're you looking for it all of a sudden?" J.J. asked cautiously.

"Is it so unusual for me to express an interest in my homeland?" Tristan asked with a wry smile.

"Of course not," J.J. said quickly. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't bring it up before. You haven't shown much desire to look for it until now. You've been doing nothing but training me for the past couple of months."

"That's because I've had little choice but to focus most of my efforts on ensuring that you would not be slain in a fight with a Diemon," Tristan replied. J.J. winced. "But your successes in your recent battles have alleviated some of my fears. You handled yourself particularly well against Lady Brooks, even without my assistance. Thus, I have been able to worry less about your training, and instead turn my attention to more personal concerns."

"Sorry," J.J. grimaced, feeling an honest pang of regret. "I didn't realize I was distracting you so much."

"There is no need to apologize, page. Your training was of paramount importance, and teaching you did an effective job of keeping me from dwelling upon other matters. However, I now have time to focus upon it again, and lately I have grown curious about its place in the modern world. Particularly since your foray into the Marks manor," he added, shooting J.J. an envious glance.

"Wait… are you pouting at me?" J.J. asked incredulously, trying not to laugh.

"I am not. I am merely irritated that you were given the opportunity to browse the residence of one of the Almencian noble families at your leisure, when I was not even aware that it was an option," Tristan replied huffily. J.J. couldn't help but laugh, as he swore that he heard a 'hmph' from Tristan.

"In my defense, I wasn't aware Gwen was a Marks either," J.J. pointed out.

"Regardless," Tristan huffed, "I have grown concerned. I have found very no information in any of these tomes regarding my homeland. None of these codexes have yielded even a single sentence. Tell me, page, if you would? What do you know of Almencia?"

J.J.'s grin faded as Tristan stared at him with hopeful eyes. Nervously, he pulled his hair out of its ponytail and set about re-tying it, stalling for time.

"Honestly?" J.J. said reluctantly after several long moments. "Very little. Almencia isn't exactly one of the key subjects covered in high school these days. I don't even recall a single college course making mention of it. I think I might have heard the name once or twice in passing, but… if I can be honest? Based on all the evidence? I don't think Almencia is around anymore."

"But… how could that be?" Tristan murmured. J.J. felt a pang of pity at the disheartened look in the knight's eyes.

"You said that Almencia used to be a small kingdom, right?" J.J. asked, searching for a way to boost the knight's spirits. "Maybe it simply became part of another nation. In the Middle Ages, there were a number of petty kingdoms that are no longer around. Burgundy, Barcelona, Leon, Wessex, Mercia… even in your time, I think, some of those kingdoms were being absorbed into new nations. Maybe the same thing happened to Almencia. From its name, I'd assumed it was some city-state in Spain that used to be ruled over by the Moors before the Reconquista."

Tristan stared at J.J. blankly at the unfamiliar references, and the young writer took a few minutes to go over that part of history, referring to the encyclopedias open in front of Tristan. When he finished, Tristan nodded skeptically.

"It's a plausible theory. However… there is one thing that concerns me," Tristan admitted. "Almencia was an island nation, north of Iberia and west of France. Yet I cannot find it anywhere on the map. How does an entire island simply disappear?"

J.J. had been worried about that as well. In reply, he simply shrugged, unable to answer.

"I don't want to definitively say that something happened to it," J.J. said slowly. "But you're not likely to find much information on it here. It's just not a subject most people are familiar with."

"Most people are not, but there are a few," came a reedy voice from behind the two young men. They swung around to see a man in his sixties standing behind them, smiling, with his hands folded in front of him. He was of average height, though slightly stooped over, with a thinning head of grey hair and brilliant blue eyes shining behind a pair of round glasses. He wore a tweed jacket, a bowtie, and slacks, giving him a very stereotypical scholarly look "And fortunately for you two, I happen to have an interest in Almencian history myself."

"Indeed?!" Tristan responded hopefully, pushing himself up from the table quickly. The man smiled even more brightly, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, while J.J. raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, but who are you?" he asked, trying to keep his tone from sounding defensive.

"I am an archaeologist, a student of history. Look well, boys, for before you stands the great adventurer-archaeologist… Montana Brown!"

J.J. gave the man a nonplussed look, folding his arms across his chest, while Tristan stared at him blankly, not understanding the reference. The man's smile wavered nervously.

"Nebraska Johnson?" he tried again. J.J. raised an eyebrow.

"…New Jersey Anderson?" the man squeaked. J.J. narrowed his eyes in response, starting to get annoyed. Finally, the older man sighed.

"Patrick. My name is Dr. Patrick Newman. Darn, usually my students love that joke," he muttered under his breath.

"Works better in a classroom full of wide-eyed freshmen, doesn't it?" J.J. asked dryly. "Mind if I ask where you teach?"

"I'm a history teacher at the local high school. I don't think you were ever one of my students, were you, son?" Dr. Newman asked.

"Afraid not," J.J. confirmed. "I'm not really a local, sorry. Only came to this city in the last year. I'm J.J. Wells, and this is my friend, Tristan…." J.J. paused, suddenly realizing that he didn't know what Tristan's surname was.

"Farri. Tristan Farri," Tristan completed J.J.'s unspoken question.

"Ah… speaking of, that last name is Almencian itself, isn't it?" Dr. Newman chuckled. "Derived from the word for 'iron,' is it not?"

"That… yes," Tristan admitted, sounding surprised.

"Then you have Almencian blood yourself! Fascinating! The only other family I have found that has definitive links to Almencia is the Marks family, as I'm sure you know," the professor said with a chuckle. "It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, my friend."

"Sorry to interrupt, but you said that you're a doctor, right?" J.J. asked. "If you have a Ph.D., what're you doing teaching at a local high school? Shouldn't you be at a university or something?"

"First, a doctor teaching in a high school is not as unusual as you're making it sound," Dr. Newman replied defensively. "Second… I used to work at a university, but I got tired of the scrutiny my so-called 'wild findings' were always subjected to. I decided to take a less visible posting to pursue my research without having to endure the… scorn of my colleagues."

"Regarding Almencia? Why? Are they treating it like you're trying to seriously study Atlantis or something?" J.J. asked.

"That's exactly how they're treating it. Almencia is seen as a hazy part of history at best, and a fairy tale at worst," Dr. Newman replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "My theories about it threaten to destabilize hundreds of years of known fact about medieval history. As such, any findings that I've published have been immediately discredited. That's why I came here, to Marville, which is rumored to be one of the few places with at least fairly conclusive evidence of the existence of Almencia."

"And what have you found?" Tristan asked eagerly.

"Sadly, very little," Dr. Newman replied with a sigh. "I attempted to get in contact with the Marks family, but they've proven rather… elusive. They don't answer my requests for an interview, nor have they allowed me access to their property."

"Yeah, hard to imagine why they wouldn't want some random guy poking his nose into their family business," J.J. pointed out.

"I'm aware of how intrusive I sound," Dr. Newman snapped. "But without their help, my theories will have no solid evidence backing them up. If I could just get in contact with one of them…."

Tristan glanced over at J.J. expectantly, and the writer met his gaze, frowning lightly. "No. I know what you're going to ask, and the answer is no. I doubt she'll agree to this. Especially since this is kind of a major favor to call in, if her family's already said no every other time," J.J. said warily.

"Simply explain that it is for a good cause," Tristan replied. "She did declare that you are her paramour now, are you not? Surely you can use that as leverage."

"First off, that's not how relationships work," J.J. said bitingly. "I'm not going to use my girlfriend's family or assets for my own benefit. Second, I shouldn't call her my girlfriend since I'm of the opinion that we're not even really dating in the first place. Just because she said we're going out now doesn't make it fact, especially since it's not like I had the chance to disagree."

"So then do you object to her attentions?" Tristan asked simply.

"Well… not really," J.J. admitted. "But asking her this feels… wrong. It's like I'm just using her because of her family."

"The worst she can do is say no," Tristan insisted. Dr. Newman glanced back and forth between them, puzzled. After considering the request for a few more moments, J.J. held up a finger and disappeared behind a stack of shelves, pulling out his phone as he did.

Gwen picked up on the third ring, cheerfully replying, "Hey you! Late shift at the library and you just wanted to hear my voice?"

"We'll go with that. Always good to hear from you regardless of the situation, though," J.J. replied, smiling faintly. "Listen, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. Tristan and I ran into this guy at the library who was wondering if we could explore your mansion a bit-"

"It's not Dr. Newman, is it?" Gwen's voice immediately turned sour. "Look, the answer is no. If it was just you and Tristan… I might be okay with it. But I don't want that glory hound sniffing around my stuff."

"Why, what's his deal?" J.J. asked, leaning back against one of the shelves.

"He's been trying to get at the Marks family's history for years because he thinks it'd give him his career back after he ran it into the ground. He was the one stupid enough to write up theories about Almencia without any proof to back them up, and now he's trying to steal our property to put in a museum or whatever, just so he can point to it and say, 'See? I was right all along!' So… if it was just you and me, taking a romantic tour of my family's tombs? Sure. I'd even be okay with Tristan looking around. But not him."

"You have a weird definition of romantic," J.J. said dryly. "Listen, I wouldn't ask otherwise, but… I think this guy could not only give Tristan some insight about what happened to his home, but might also help me better understand what my diary can do. Can you reconsider letting us in? Please?"

There was a long pause, then Gwen sighed softly. "Fine," she replied finally. "But he touches nothing in the mansion. And in exchange, you owe me a date. Got it?"

"You have my word," J.J. assured her.

"Thank you," Gwen replied softly. "Anything else?"

"Not at the moment. I'd like to talk more, but I have work to do." He realized that leaving her hanging after calling her up would be rude, so he added, "Want me to call you later tonight, though?"

"I'd love that," Gwen replied, and J.J. could practically hear her smiling. "Talk to you then. Have fun!"

As he hung up the phone, J.J. felt his heart skip a beat. Blinking in confusion, he shook his head and walked back towards the two men, who were chatting merrily.

"You are remarkable, my friend," Dr. Newman laughed, switching back to English. "I've never met anyone else who's had such a solid command of the Almencian language."

"I should hope so, seeing as it's my native tongue," Tristan replied.

"Really? How do you mean?" the archaeologist pressed him.

"He's from an Almencian family, so he grew up speaking it," J.J. interrupted, shooting Tristan a wary glance. Even if Dr. Newman claimed to be an Almencian scholar, there was no reason to give him more information than necessary, especially with what Gwen had warned him about. "I have good news for you, doctor. We're going to be allowed into the Marks mansion, on the condition that you touch nothing inside. Why don't we meet up there tomorrow?"

"Wonderful! I'll go collect my things. Shall we meet at, say, ten o'clock?" Dr. Newman suggested. The pair nodded, and they watched as he practically skipped out of the library. J.J. rubbed his eyes wearily as Tristan gazed at him.

"How did you secure Lady Marks' agreement?" he asked.

"I had to promise her things. Horrible, unspeakable things," J.J. quipped, though his tone quickly became more serious. "I'm not going to lie, this professor worries me a bit."

"Perhaps he is a bit… overzealous, but he is also the first person I have met who has an inkling about what might have happened to Almencia. I am willing to forgive his eccentricities if he can provide answers about my past."

"Mm, well… you've done more than enough to help me, so I'll back you up on this one," J.J. said slowly. "Anyways, let's worry about it tomorrow. Right now, I still need to finish up my shift."

"Ah, yes. As I have no further need of them, you can put these back," Tristan said, dumping the stack of encyclopedias on J.J.'s cart. The author glared at Tristan, muttering under his breath as he began straightening the volumes. The knight noticed his murderous look and quickly scampered out of the library before J.J. could follow through on an impulse to throw one of the encyclopedias at the back of his head.

* * *

The next morning, J.J. and Tristan pulled up to the Marks mansion to see Dr. Newman sitting in his jeep, already dressed in excavating attire – a khaki vest and pants, white shirt, and heavy boots. J.J. raised an eyebrow, adjusting his brown leather jacket as he commented, "Seems like you're about to start pulling floorboards up with a pickaxe."

"Oh… you think I shouldn't bring it with me?" Dr. Newman asked, crestfallen, as he held up the axe. J.J. stared at him, shaking his head slowly, before walking over to the gates and unlocking them with the iron key that Gwen had lent him. As he pushed open the gates, Dr. Newman stepped around him, letting out a soft gasp of delight as he stared around the area. Tristan likewise gazed around the courtyard, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"I am astounded that there are no guards protecting this manor," Tristan murmured. "Surely the Marks family could afford them."

"Gwen mentioned something about her brother letting the place fall into disrepair, though they apparently also asked the cops to circle this part of town more often than any other. It's not unguarded per se, it's just… not worth spending the money to hire a security team, I suppose," J.J. shrugged.

"It is disheartening that the heir to the Marks name shows so little reverence for his past, then," Tristan commented. J.J. had nothing to say to that, so he simply nodded, then glanced over at Dr. Newman, questions bubbling up in his mind.

"So what's the story behind your interest in Almencia anyways?" J.J. asked as they walked towards the mansion. "It seems like a rather… unusual field of study. I didn't think history professors often seriously pursued myths and legends under the assumption that they're meant to be taken as hard fact."

"Have you heard of the story behind the discovery of the city of Troy, my boy?" Dr. Newman replied. "Until the 19th century, everyone assumed it was simply that – a legend. But then Heinrich Schliemann followed clues from the supposed myth of the Trojan War and discovered that the city did indeed exist. That is precisely why I'm pursuing Almencia. I don't believe it's merely a myth. I believe it's a part of history that seems to have been forgotten for some reason, and I wish to know why."

"Forgotten?" Tristan asked.

"There are only a few scattered references to Almencia throughout history. My contemporaries think many of them are nothing more than references to Atlantis, as there are many parallels between the two stories, but there are too many incongruities for me to agree. Not only does Almencia's history not stretch as far back as Plato's writings about Atlantis, but there are also legitimate historical references to it that my colleagues cannot easily dismiss. There are scattered writings that, if one pieces the puzzle together, indicate that Almencia was indeed a real place. Today, the Marks family is the only dynasty that openly states that they came from Almencia, which is why I've been so intent on tracking them down. But the claims of a small family in a tiny city in the middle of nowhere are hardly enough to rewrite history, especially since it seems everyone with European heritage claims that they're descended from dukes and kings," Dr. Newman grumbled.

"Then let's hear it from your side," J.J. suggested as they approached the front doors. "What've you dug up in your research?"

"Well… let's start at the beginning," Dr. Newman said, pausing to look around, fascinated, at the mansion as J.J. opened the doors for him. A few moments later, he noticed J.J.'s expectant look and continued. "The first reference to Almencia comes from an obscure Roman text, which mentions the foundation of a Roman outpost on an island off the coast of Gaul. It was originally populated by a small settlement of Celtic tribesmen, and the Romans soon established a town named Insularmum. It became a minor but prosperous trading post between Gaul and Iberia, and is seldom mentioned after this initial text."

"I had heard that story, yes," Tristan agreed, folding his arms as they walked into the library. "My father once told me that Almencia was founded as the westernmost outpost of a mighty empire, and that we were sworn to serve as bastions against any threat from the west."

"Fascinating! Can you transcribe this for me?" Dr. Newman asked eagerly. "Anything about Almencian culture, including their myths, would be a major help to me!"

"So… okay, the Romans founded the island. Then what?" J.J. asked, trying to get the professor back on track as he handed a bewildered Tristan a pad and paper.

"What? Oh, yes. So, after the Roman Empire fell, Europe was plunged into what we now call the Dark Ages. However, there is a passage from a single text, dated around 600 AD, that speaks of a shining island to the west which escaped the fate of most of Europe. This text is where the island is first called Almencia, probably a corruption of the original Roman name. My colleagues seem to think that it's a reference to Atlantis, since as far as we know, civilization in Western Europe basically collapsed after Rome fell, and they can't fathom that a nation escaped the Dark Ages. My theory, though, is that Almencia had become self-sufficient, and its isolated position allowed it to escape the notice of the barbarians that sacked most of the rest of Western Europe. It was small enough that it wasn't worth the effort to attack, and therefore the Almencians were able to preserve much of their knowledge, even while most of it was lost to the barbarian hordes elsewhere in Europe."

"The Age of Iron and Stone," Tristan murmured.

"What was that, son?" Dr. Newman asked quickly.

"An Almencian legend tells of a time when the people stopped sending out trading ships and vessels, as there were few to trade with and little to trade for. Thus, Almencia focused inward, intent on preserving and perfecting what we already had. We – it," Tristan corrected himself quickly at a glance from J.J. "…constsructed walls for the first time, and the smiths began to forge blades and suits of armor in case Almencia was attacked by the savages beyond the walls."

"Excellent! Which brings me to my next point!" Dr. Newman exclaimed. "The next clear reference to Almencia comes from a Norman text dating from the Viking Age, around 900 AD. In it, they tell of an island city-state to the west that they attempted to raid, but found themselves unable to breach its walls. They also speak of warriors clad in armor unlike any they'd seen before. The most prevalent armor in Europe during the Early Middle Ages was the mail hauberk, yet the text speaks of warriors wearing tunics of solid iron. That makes me suspect that the Almencians were already experimenting with plate armor long before it was developed in the rest of Europe."

"Ah, yes! See my armor-!" Tristan began, but a furious look from J.J. immediately silenced him before he could continue.

"What was that?" Dr. Newman asked sharply.

"Tristan's a fan of plate armor," J.J. explained quickly. "Why were the Almencians able to develop advanced armor before the rest of the world?"

"Because they still had the ability to do so," the doctor continued, eyeing J.J. suspiciously for his interruption. "Mainland Europe lacked the infrastructure to continue making plate armor the way the Romans had, even if they still had the knowledge about how to construct it. As I said before, though, Almencia retained Roman forging techniques, and because it remained untouched by raiding parties, I suspect they may have even been able to maintain advanced Roman smithies."

"Okay, but that leads to another question," J.J. continued, leading them out of the library and towards the dining hall. "If Almencia was so advanced compared to the rest of the world, why didn't they just use their advanced technology to conquer their neighbors and found a second Rome? That was the first thing Charlemagne did, after all."

Tristan's eyes widened, as though he was scandalized by the idea. "Almencia never had imperial aspirations! To think that the crown would force other kings to kneel before it…!"

"Admirable, if true," Dr. Newman said with a smile. "I suspect that there were practical reasons as well. Because of its small size, Almencia would have lacked the manpower needed to field a conquering army. While it could defend itself quite adequately, the ability to project its power across the sea is another matter entirely, especially once trade networks broke down and resources became scarce. Furthermore, I suspect the Almencians came to jealously guard their secrets from the rest of the world. They were the keepers of unique techniques like metallurgy, advanced masonry, and I suspect even alchemy. If they began to spread out across Europe again, their techniques would no doubt be copied by their subjects and enemies alike, and they would lose their technological advantages, and with them, the ability to defend themselves. It was better to remain a powerful but isolated kingdom that could defend itself and study what it wished without being bothered by the mainland barbarians."

The trio arrived in the dining room, where a long, dusty wooden table was lined with ten chairs. A chandelier coated with cobwebs hung above the table, while more suits of plate armor lined the walls. J.J. walked behind one of the chairs and gripped the back of it while Dr. Newman examined the suits of armor.

"Okay, so they just focused on themselves. But from what I read, they didn't last much past the 11th century," J.J. said, giving Tristan a sidelong glance.

"That's correct," Dr. Newman replied, turning to face J.J. again. "After the early 11th century, all references to Almencia simply… vanish altogether. It's as if the island was no longer a part of history, as if all references to it were excised. An international conspiracy involving every censor in Europe removing any mention of Almencia from every record could not have done a more thorough job. And, obviously, Almencia no longer appears on any map, ancient or modern. It'd be difficult to overlook an island off the coast of France, even a small one. So that begs the question… what happened to it?"

"Any thoughts?" J.J. asked. Tristan nodded, leaning in eagerly, his knuckles gripping the back of one of the chairs so tightly that they were turning white.

"All I have is speculation. If I had even a solid theory, I would have presented it by now," Dr. Newman sighed reluctantly. "By all appearances, it seems to have gone the way of Atlantis and was swallowed by the sea. Perhaps rising sea levels caused it to disappear. It's also possible that we were mistaken about its location, and it lies further out to sea, waiting to be discovered. After all, there are thousands of islands out in the oceans we still don't know about to this day, and new ones are constantly being charted. Unfortunately, for now Almencia's ultimate fate remains a mystery."

Tristan's grip on the back of the chair tightened to the point where J.J. could hear the wood groaning in protest under his powerful fingers. "Do you not even have an idea?" he asked in a strangled whisper.

Dr. Newman gave him a sympathetic look before sadly shaking his head. "I'm sorry, son. If I did, I would gladly share my findings with you. But sadly, I don't have the necessary information to draw a proper conclusion. I'd hoped that coming here might reveal more, but it seems like nothing in this mansion predates the late 18th century, well after Almencia's fall. This, I'm afraid, is just another dead end."

"Sorry we couldn't be of more help," J.J. said, trying not to breathe a sigh of relief that the doctor didn't seem interested in poking around further. He was still remembering the last time they had dug too deep into Almencian ruins and released the Shards. While he did want Tristan to have a bit of closure, he was also wary about overturning too many new stones. "If there's nothing else-"

"What about the catacombs?" Tristan asked suddenly. J.J. swung around to glare at Tristan, who was wearing a desperate look.

"Catacombs?" Dr. Newman asked sharply.

"What he means-" J.J. began, but Tristan immediately cut him off.

"There are catacombs running beneath this mansion, containing the bodies of servants of the Marks family. Do you think there might be something down there?" Tristan asked, ignoring J.J. shaking his head furiously behind Dr. Newman's back.

"I suppose there might be, if you would permit me to have a look," Dr. Newman implored J.J.

"I don't think I have permission from Gwen to do that," J.J. replied.

"Oh, come now, boy, this is for the sake of unraveling a centuries-old mystery, and Tristan here seems just as eager for answers as I am!" Dr. Newman pressed him. Tristan nodded vigorously in agreement. "At the very least, it can't hurt to look, and what Ms. Marks doesn't know won't hurt her."

"It's how she'll hurt me that has me worried," J.J. muttered. Tristan stepped closer, looking up into J.J.'s face with wide eyes as he lowered his voice.

"Page… no, J.J.," Tristan whispered hoarsely. "I have spent weeks of my time training you to combat the Diemons, and never once have I asked anything in return. Now, my heritage – the potential knowledge of the fate of my homeland, which I fought and bled for, may lie beneath our feet, and we have with us one of the few men who might be able to interpret it and explain it to me. I am no scholar, but he is. I ask you, beg you, as a favor in return for all I have done for you… please permit us to enter the catacombs. If we find nothing, there is no harm done, and if we find something, it will ease my conscience. I simply must know."

J.J. stared at Tristan's pleading face, and while he sympathized, he continued to hedge. "I don't know my way around down there," he pointed out weakly. "If we get lost, I don't know how long it'll take to find our way back up to the surface. The last group of guys they found playing around down there were lost for days."

"You needn't worry about that, my boy," Dr. Newman smiled, taking out a ball of twine. "An old trick from the legend of Theseus. If you're going trekking through a winding maze, it helps to be able to find your way back. I have several more as well," he added, opening his backpack with a grin to reveal balls of yarn. J.J. and Tristan both stared into the bag incredulously before simultaneously looking up at the archaeologist in disbelief.

"Were you expecting us to take you underground or something?" J.J. asked bluntly, scowling.

"I was hoping, you might say," Dr. Newman chuckled, closing his bag and slinging it back over his shoulder. "Old houses like this often hide their deepest secrets in cellars and basements after all. Now, will you please show us to the catacombs?"

J.J. sighed heavily, putting his hand over his eyes as he considered the request for several long moments. "Gwen's gonna kill me," he muttered finally, but reluctantly motioned for the pair to follow him towards the hidden door that Gwen had shown him. Once inside, he ordered the pair of them to step back, so he could at least preserve the secret of how Gwen had opened the door. It took him a few minutes of digging around, but he eventually pulled back part of the rug and found a small hole in the floorboards, innocuous enough to look like a knot in the wood. Deciding to test it out, he slipped the key into the hole and turned it. There was a loud click and the wall in front of him slid open, revealing the entrance to the crypts.

"Well done, boy!" Dr. Newman exclaimed, and Tristan nodded to him gratefully. J.J. smiled weakly, unable to fully accept their gratitude when he still had a knot in his stomach at having shared a secret Gwen had entrusted him with. Slowly, he led the pair down the stairs and into the darkness of the hidden passageway.

The torches lining the walls were no longer lit, so the halls were pitch-black. J.J. squinted for a few moments, feeling around for a wall to lean on, then winced as a bright light suddenly snapped on in his eyes.

"Ah, my apologies, son," Dr. Newman said, pointing the flashlight towards the ground as J.J. blinked colored spots out of his eyes. "Now, do you remember anything in particular?"

"The only thing of note was this large chamber about a half-mile in," J.J. said, figuring there was no point in hiding it now. "But I can't remember the way. I wasn't exactly paying attention last time I was down here." Not to mention, he thought grimly, he had a terrible sense of direction anyways.

"No matter," Dr. Newman said cheerfully. "If it's a large cavern, we can tell where it is by following the air currents."

"A half-mile away?" J.J. asked skeptically.

"Certainly! You simply have to know what to look for. Come, boys," the professor said, motioning them along.

J.J. and Tristan fell in step behind the professor, unraveling the ball of twine as they went. As they walked, Dr. Newman periodically lit the torches with a lighter he'd brought, slowly bathing the tombs in a dim orange light. Tristan, meanwhile, took his time peering at the coffins, almost as if he was searching for something.

"What're you looking for?" J.J. finally asked in a low voice after ten minutes of watching Tristan read plaque after plaque. "Someone you know?"

"Not in particular, no," Tristan said. "Rather, I wish to pay my respects to those that died in service to the Marks family. They were the noble family my father served, after all."

"Was your father a knight as well?" J.J. asked, realizing he knew very little about Tristan personally. "Is that why you wanted to become a knight yourself?"

"Knighthood isn't something passed down like a lord's title, page," Tristan explained. "Each knight had to earn his own title. As for my father-"

"Was this the chamber you mentioned?" Dr. Newman asked suddenly. J.J. looked away from Tristan to see that they were standing at the entrance of the hall filled with marble tombs, the same place where he had fought Abby. His jaw slowly fell open as he gazed at the professor.

"How… did you find this so fast?" J.J. asked, disbelieving. "I didn't even give you any directions."

"Like I said, I've always had a good sense of direction. Pay attention to the stonework and the air currents, and you can find your way anywhere," Dr. Newman replied, just a bit smugly. "Now, let's have a look around, shall we?"

J.J. and Tristan slowly followed the professor into the room, their footsteps echoing loudly off the marble floors. Dr. Newman nearly slipped as he stepped on a pile of soot, regaining his footing at the last moment.

"What's this?" he asked, shining the light on the ground. "Ash? Why would there be ash down here?"

Tristan turned to glower at J.J., who grinned apologetically and shrugged. "There were some interlopers a few days ago," Tristan explained through gritted teeth. "They did not show proper reverence for these tombs."

"I can see that. It looks like they overturned a pile of coals on the floor or something. No matter!" Dr. Newman exclaimed cheerfully, walking over to one of the statues to examine it more closely. Tristan did the same, chewing his lower lip as he did.

While the professor hummed to himself, examining a statue along the eastern wall, J.J. followed Tristan to the west, since he had nothing better to do. When he realized that Tristan's hitherto depressed expression had brightened into a gleeful one, J.J. murmured, "What's gotten into you?"

"These are the past kings of Almencia," Tristan said softly. "I recognize this one as King Aurelian II. This entire chamber is dedicated to the Alnencian royal family."

"So… what, do you think the Marks family brought the bones of the Almencian kings with them when they came over?" J.J. asked, frowning. Unless Tristan was just happy to be in the presence of royalty again, he couldn't figure out why the knight was suddenly so giddy.

"No, those would not have been disturbed. I am confident they still lie in Almencia. I merely think this room was constructed in honor of the royal family. The Marks family was a cadet branch of the royal line, cousins of theirs. It would make sense that they would wish to honor the rulers of their homeland."

"Okay… so why are you grinning, then?" J.J. repeated.

"Because if the architects followed tradition, these statues hold another secret that those who are not native to Almencia would be unaware of," Tristan crowed.

Kneeling down, Tristan ran his fingers along the corners of the statue's base, feeling around, until his finger hooked around a tiny gap, and he pulled hard. The heavy marble slowly slid forward, and a hidden drawer opened. J.J. shined his own flashlight down, his eyes widening as he saw a scroll sitting in the bottom of the container. Tristan pulled it out with a look of triumph on his face.

"Our statues did not merely provide the visage of our rulers, but also gave an account of their reigns, from their lives to their deaths," Tristan explained as he began unrolling the scroll, motioning for J.J. to give him some light to read. "Thus, by reading this, I can find out what happened to Almencia after I was sealed away."

J.J. silently held the light up for Tristan as he began to browse the scroll, muttering under his breath, "Right… Domitius III, born in 974… father of two children… repelled the Norman invaders and invited them to settle in his kingdom… commissioned the alchemist Quintus…."

"Anything new?" J.J. asked. Tristan shushed him, narrowing his eyes.

"'With the conclusion of the Alchemist's Crisis, Domitius suspected that the measures he had taken to seal the harbingers of Almencia's doom were only temporary. Thus he sealed away one of his knights to combat any future incursions. However, with Almencia's greatest protectors gone, none remained to protect it from the Second Rebellion. The people craved the power they had been granted, and rose up against their king, whom they felt had promised them perfection and then denied them their destiny. The people rallied beneath the banner of the Black Seraph, and for ten days lay siege to the palace before it fell. The last protectors of the Crown fell with their king, and the Rebellion was successful. However, consumed by their conflicting visions of perfection, they turned on each other and the realm descended into chaos….'" Tristan suddenly trailed off, his eyes widening in frustration. "And then it stops! What happened next?!"

"Sounds to me like the island might have been torn apart by its own people," J.J. suggested. "What's this Black Seraph that they mentioned?"

"That is the being that created the first Diemons, and whom I suspect is doing the same thing now," Tristan replied, looking up. "A thousand years ago, I defeated him because he spread his magic too thin, creating hundreds of weak Diemons, and I simply destroyed every D-former and Diemon he created; he over-expended himself trying to create more, and I simply wore him down. However, I was not powerful enough to destroy him in our final battle. He told me that he would retreat, rest, and recover, and he warned me that in a thousand years he would rise again to fulfill his purpose – the creation of Diemons."

"So the people who'd been Diemons before might have used him as a rallying cry to try and regain their D-formers," J.J. suggested. "Especially if they were all going through that D-former withdrawal you mentioned. Then they stormed the palace and… I suppose they destroyed the island in their in-fighting." A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

"But that is still only a theory," Tristan growled in frustration. "I must _know_ what happened!"

"Sometimes a theory is the best you can hope for," J.J. said placatingly, though he knew that it was little more than an empty platitude to Tristian.

"Perhaps, but the more evidence you can gather, the stronger that theory becomes," Dr. Newman commented cheerfully behind them. The pair swung around, their eyes widening simultaneously as they saw the doctor's arms full of scrolls. Looking behind him, J.J. saw that the compartments under the other statues had also been pulled open. The doctor calmly walked over to the bag he had set on the floor of the chamber and began stuffing the papers into them.

"I believe our agreement was that you were not to remove anything from the mansion," J.J. growled, slowly approaching the professor with his hand outstretched. "I'm going to have to ask you to return those."

"Well, we're not technically in the mansion anymore, are we, boy?" Dr. Newman replied calmly. "And the Marks family clearly has no idea about the value of these scrolls. This is over a thousand years of history that should be shared with the world!"

"And validation of every theory you have. Don't act like you have some altruistic motive for stealing those," J.J. snarled, reaching out to grab the handle of the bag, which the doctor quickly snatched out of the way.

"It's hardly stealing when this information should be the property of the public domain," Dr. Newman said, continuing to rationalize his theft. "I would simply copy their contents, but this is far more expedient. Besides, my colleagues will need to see the physical evidence before them before they accept my findings as something more than mere 'crackpot ravings,'" he chuckled bitterly. "I assure you, once they have been properly documented, they shall be returned to Miss Marks in prime condition. Perhaps I can even get them back to her as soon as several months from now."

"Those scrolls are the property of the Marks family," Tristan said, backing up J.J. who had slipped his hand into his pocket for his diary. "They belong to a noble family that you are dishonoring-"

"What the hell do I care about dishonoring them?!" Dr. Newman suddenly shrieked, his voice echoing off the marble walls. "They've cost me thirty years of my life because they wouldn't just hand over their damn records! Now that I've found them, I'm not giving them back!"

"You can hand them over, or we can take them from you," J.J. sighed. "And I don't think you could take on both of us, even when you were in your prime."

"Perhaps not. But you see, I was recently gifted an Almencian artifact of my own by a very generous benefactor," Dr. Newman smirked. Holding up his flashlight, he shined it on his hand to reveal that he was holding a khaki-colored D-former. J.J.'s eyes widened, then narrowed.

"You know… I'm not even surprised," J.J. admitted. "You can say whatever you want about following air currents or whatever, but you discovered this chamber way too quickly, especially since I didn't even give you any instructions about how to find it. What, does that thing give you a supernatural sense of direction?"

"It does more than that, boy," Dr. Newman smirked. He gripped it tightly, and there was suddenly a flash of tan light. J.J. immediately pulled out his diary and flipped it open, holding it up to his left cheek as he squinted in the sudden light.

"Henshin!" he called out, and as soon as he felt his Driver appear around his waist, he slipped the book into the belt buckle and spun the D-former in the center of the cover.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** the diary called out as he was surrounded by an amber crystal, which spun around him rapidly while a trumpet sounded. Once his transformation was finished and he was clad in his brown leather armor, he held out his hand, and his quill flew into it, which he immediately extended into its sword form while he peered at the monstrous shape the doctor had assumed.

In the dim light, he could make out that Dr. Newman now stood at least eight feet tall, and his body was covered in coarse blue-black hair. He seemed to have also put on a half-ton of muscle, if his size was any indication; this was the largest Diemon J.J. had seen since he had fought Ryan in his orc form, and Dr. Newman was arguably even larger. His torso remained human, but his lower half had morphed to leave him standing on a pair of hooves the size of dinner plates, while his upper body was now crowned with the head and horns of a bull. Most alarming to J.J. was the enormous double-headed axe he clutched in his meaty hand, which he effortlessly hefted over his shoulder as he snorted at J.J. derisively.

"A minotaur? Fitting," J.J. muttered as he slipped into his fencing stance, starting to creep forward to get within striking range of the doctor. "If you'd actually done your homework about Almencian artifacts, you'd know how dangerous that jewel you're using is!" he added, slowly approaching Dr. Newman, brandishing his sword out in front of him.

"Sometimes risks must be taken to achieve rewards. And you're hardly one to speak to me about meddling with powers you don't understand. I recognize you as that Kamen Rider Page people have been talking about," the doctor snorted. He suddenly swiped his axe at J.J. as the writer stepped too close. J.J. immediately leaned backwards, the axe almost grazing his chest. He had been caught off-guard by the speed of the blow; clearly, Dr. Newman was far faster than Ryan had been, though Abby and even Agni had him outclassed in terms of speed.

The doctor snorted as J.J. began to cautiously prowl around him, staying at the edge of his reach. "Tell me, boy, are you using an Almencian artifact as well?"

"Why? Going to steal it too?" J.J. taunted him. He feinted with a forward step, then immediately leapt backwards before the doctor's counter-swing could graze him. He was testing the older man, trying to get a feel for their difference in speed. J.J. suspected he was at least a little quicker than the minotaur.

"I would love to add it to my collection, certainly," Dr. Newman replied. "But I'll be happy with just the scrolls. There's no need for us to fight, you know. Simply let me pass and-"

Before Dr. Newman could finish the cliché request, J.J. suddenly made his move. He dove in before the doctor could react, stabbing forward with a vicious thrust. His blade pierced the thick hide of the minotaur, which he noted with some relief wasn't as thick as Ryan's had been. He followed this up with a quick slash to Dr. Newman's leg before jumping back, dancing out of the doctor's range before he could bring his huge axe around to strike him. Dr. Newman bellowed, his eyes burning with fury as they fixated on J.J.'s crouched form.

"Fine! I tried to be diplomatic, but if you won't let me go peacefully, I'll force my way past you! Not like anyone will find your bodies down here anyways!" Dr. Newman barked. He suddenly charged at J.J., swinging his axe wildly in furious, continuous arcs. J.J. backpedaled while Tristan dove out of the way, pressing himself against a wall. J.J. considered switching to Warrior Class, but he was worried about the mix of speed and power Dr. Newman had. His blows were too fast for J.J. to counter with the heavy warhammer, and Mage Class would be an even worse choice. All he could do for now was keep pace in his more balanced Adventurer Class.

J.J. suddenly felt his back touch the wall behind him, and his eyes widened with fright as Dr. Newman sneered, swinging his axe wildly towards him. J.J. barely blocked the blow with the edge of his blade, keeping it from cutting him, but the sheer force of it threw him into a wall, and he cried out in pain as his shoulder collided heavily with the hard stone. He dropped to the ground, wincing as he pushed himself onto his side. Dr. Newman roared and charged at him as J.J. struggled to pick himself up off the floor. When he saw the lowered horns of the doctor, he rolled out of the way, throwing a slash behind him that only cut air. The doctor pulled himself up short before hitting one of the statues, an alarmed look on his face as he nearly slammed into the smooth marble.

Immediately, J.J. realized that he was loath to harm the statues, given their historical value. Smirking, he backed towards one of them, pressing himself against its smooth surface as the doctor ran at him again, his axe raised. When he saw how close J.J. was to the statue, though, he hesitated, unsure of whether to bring his weapon down. J.J. took advantage of his hesitation, diving in and delivering three quick slashes to his torso, and one to his legs, before once again skirting out of the way.

By now, Dr. Newman was panting, unable to keep up with J.J.'s superior agility and fighting experience. He paused, considering his options, before noticing Tristan by the entrance. J.J. followed his gaze, and his eyes widened as Dr. Newman suddenly charged towards Tristan before J.J. could react. Tristan was quick enough to dive out of the way, using reflexes born of years of fighting Diemons himself. Despite this, Dr. Newman's arm caught his chest as he ran by, and Tristan was slammed into a wall. There was a sickening crack, and he groaned out as he slumped to the ground.

J.J. immediately ran over to him, forgetting about the fight. Dr. Newman smirked as he grabbed his bag and disappeared into the catacombs, his triumphant laughter fading as he disappeared into the maze. Tristan slowly opened his eyes and grunted as he saw J.J. kneeling beside him.

"You should… chase after him," Tristan wheezed.

"Yeah, stop being an idiot," J.J. replied bluntly. "How badly are you hurt?"

Tristan grunted and slowly pushed himself up, wincing. "There is a sharp pain in my chest. Perhaps a cracked rib. Nothing appears to be seriously damaged, however. I am fortunate that he did not intend to actually harm me."

"Good. Still, I'm taking you back to the surface and getting you to a hospital," J.J. insisted. "Can you stand? If you're too badly hurt, I won't try moving you.."

"No… I am capable of standing," Tristan assured him. "If you would assist me, though?"

J.J. slipped Tristan's arm over his shoulders and slowly lifted him up. Tristan winced as he tried to put weight on one of his legs, chuckling weakly. "Ah… and it would appear my leg has sustained some damage as well," he muttered.

"It's fine," J.J. assured him. "We just have to find the way out of here."

"About that," Tristan murmured. "Where is the twine?"

J.J. froze, feeling his heart stop, as he slowly scanned the ground. The string they had been following was no longer lying on the floor. Starting to panic, J.J. scuffed the ground with his boot, wondering if it had been covered by the soot coating the floor, but there was nothing. Their lifeline back to the surface was gone. They were lost hundreds of feet below the surface of Marville without a path to guide them back, and with a hostile minotaur somewhere in the catacombs, possibly waiting to ambush them.

"…Dammit," J.J. muttered, fighting off the panic settling over him as he gazed towards the now-foreboding entrance to the maze of tombs. "Hold the light steady for me, Tristan," he murmured as he slowly walked into the labyrinth. "We might be down here for a while."


	9. Session 9

**Session 9**

Progress was slow as J.J. and Tristan trudged through the long corridors that made up the Marks family catacombs. Thankfully, due to his enhanced strength, J.J. barely felt Tristan's weight as the knight leaned heavily against him, but he kept the pace slow regardless, simply to keep from aggravating Tristan's injuries. Worse, from time to time, J.J. could hear the clattering sound of hoofbeats behind them, followed by a deep, guttural laugh that indicated that Dr. Newman was still somewhere nearby. It felt like he was toying with them, stalking them.

"Seriously, I don't get why he doesn't just head back to the surface," J.J. muttered, swinging around yet again to face the sound of hoofbeats, only for them to disappear. He snarled behind his mask, his right hand gripping his sword a bit more tightly in case the doctor decided to stop playing and just attack them.

"I suspect that he is simply reveling in his power, nothing more," Tristan replied with a grunt. "You have seen it before. Once one becomes a Diemon, they tend to lose their sense of reason and purpose, instead simply enjoying the benefits their enhanced form brings them. I insist, you must leave me here in order to combat this threat."

"And I insist that you shut up about that," J.J. countered, though his tone wasn't harsh; rather, he smiled slightly behind his mask. "Leaving you behind wouldn't do you any good. It's not like you'd be safer; Dr. Newman said he'd be happy to leave our bodies down here, so he's going after both of us, not just me. If I just left you here, you'd be nothing but a target. Besides, it's not like leaving you behind would mean I'd be any less lost," he added with a frown, glancing around at the identical tombs.

"I believe we were supposed to take a left at that last turn," Tristan added. J.J. glanced over at him, scowling behind his helmet.

"Keep that up and I might just leave you here after all," he commented drily. Tristan laughed at that, then grunted and held his side.

"I do still regret that I am a burden upon you," Tristan murmured.

"Psh. I feel like I'm more of a burden to you most of the time, honestly," J.J. replied, looking around at the catacombs. "I've been doing nothing but monopolizing your time with training since you re-awoke. Sure, it was necessary, but you've had other things you've wanted to do. You've been putting them aside, though, for the sake of teaching me so I could stay alive. Which… I never thanked you for, did I?" he added, giving Tristan a sidelong glance.

"There is no need to thank me, page," Tristan assured him. "I would not have allowed you to march into battle without offering any assistance that I could. I merely regret that all I can offer you is advice and training, rather than participating in battle myself. It is a shame that my father's armor still lies dormant."

J.J. paused at that comment, turning to look at him for a long moment. "Your father's armor?" he asked. "What, did you father used to be a knight as well?"

"No," Tristan smiled. "My father was a smith. The best in Almencia. In fact, he created the armor that you are wearing now."

J.J. stared at him, but then turned as he heard hoofbeats approaching them. Quickly, he shuffled Tristan down a side passage and held his finger to his mouth to signal to him to remain quiet. The doctor's hoofbeats passed to their right, a loud snorting sound filling the passageway, followed by a dark chuckle. J.J. and Tristan traded glances, before J.J. hauled him up and they began to travel the opposite direction, away from the minotaur.

Once the sounds of the beast had faded, Tristan murmured, "I suspect that you have questions. Would you like me to explain?"

"We should probably keep quiet," J.J. replied, though Tristan was right; mentioning his father had piqued J.J.'s curiosity. "Besides, talking isn't going to help that bruised rib of yours at all."

"I can endure the pain," Tristan assured him, smiling again. "And talking helps to distract me from it. If you would permit me?"

"Whatever helps you feel better," J.J. shrugged, peering around a corner to make sure the doctor wasn't coming from that direction. "Just keep it down."

"Of course. Allow me to explain, then," Tristan said, leaning his head back against the wall as they stopped to rest. "My father's name was Ignatius Farri, and he was a blacksmith sworn to the service of House Marks. I was his eldest child and the heir to his smithy. As soon as I could walk, he began teaching me how to work a forge, but even as a child I had little interest in it. Nevertheless, I was resigned to my fate, until I was about ten years old. That was when the Normans attacked us."

"Normans?" J.J. repeated curiously, leaning around one corner. When he felt that the coast was clear, he quickly shrank his sword down to its quill size and flipped his diary open to a blank page, where he quickly wrote down the word "Minotaur." His pen began to scribble on the blank page, though J.J. noted that it was writing more slowly than usual, possibly because he was transformed, and the diary was being forced to multitask again. With little else to do while he waited, he turned back to Tristan to listen to his story.

"Aye," Tristan said, gazing up at the ceiling. "The Normans who attacked us were led by a captain named Agnar. They tried to besiege us, but they lacked the supplies required for a lengthy siege, and after a week decided to attempt a direct assault on the walls. As Dr. Newman stated, Almencian weapons and armor were far superior to anything the Normans possessed, and we easily repelled three assaults. I remember that my mother was terrified, and the guards insisted that we remain in our houses until the siege ended. However, early one night before the second assault, I snuck out of my house and managed to climb onto the walls without anyone noticing. I recall gazing down at the foreign warriors clad in strange armor, their silver mail gleaming orange in the light of their cooking fires. It was at that moment that I decided that I wanted to become a knight of Almencia, defending my homeland from the barbarians that tried to attack it."

"I imagine your parents were pleased when they found out you'd escaped," J.J. commented. Tristan chuckled, then winced and held his rib.

"My father took a whip to my backside, yes," Tristan replied. "A guard found me wandering the ramparts in my nightclothes and escorted me back to my home. My father was furious, but Lord Quintus, at least, was amused when he heard about what I had done."

"Wait… Quintus?" J.J. asked, turning sharply to look at Tristan. "You mean the alchemist? The one that designed the D-formers?"

"Technically he did not design the D-formers," Tristan corrected him. "But aye, the very same one. He and my father had been friends since they were boys, so he was a frequent guest in our home. You see, Lord Quintus was the head of House Marks, a noble in his own right, despite the fact that he would rather dabble in alchemy than lead his house. My father, as the blacksmith of House Marks, was quite close to him, as alchemy often involved the transmutation of metals. Lord Quintus regularly brought him new metals he was experimenting with, and my father would try to find new ways to work them into tools, weapons, and armor. Fortunately for Lord Quintus, my father was as much a genius with a hammer as our lord was with alchemy, and together they created many wondrous things for Almencia. As I said, your suit is just one of their many inventions."

The quill suddenly stopped writing, and his diary immediately began buzzing to let them know that Dr. Newman was nearby. Behind his mask, a grim look settled over J.J.'s face, and he snapped the diary closed and held his hand out to help Tristan up again.

"Come on, we have to keep moving," J.J. said. Even if he didn't know the way to the exit, he wanted to at least keep out of range of Dr. Newman. The last thing he needed was to have to fight the minotaur in a narrow corridor while trying to defend Tristan at the same time.

Tristan didn't protest as J.J. helped him up and they began shuffling through the halls of the catacombs. Several minutes passed as traveled in silence, watching J.J.'s diary intensely. Slowly, the rattling of the book began to die down, and eventually they were far enough away that J.J. felt safe speaking again.

"How're you holding up?" J.J. murmured.

"As well as can be expected. I have suffered worse injuries, even in training, I assure you," Tristan replied calmly, though he was still holding his side.

"Yeah, you did mention before that your training was brutal. Why'd you go through with it?" J.J. asked.

"There is more to my tale before we get to that. After the Normans tried three times to attack the walls of Almencia, our own knights snuck into their camp night and burned their ships, leaving them stranded on the island with no hope of retreat or relief. With no other options, Agnar surrendered to our king, expecting execution. King Aurelian, however, was impressed by their tenacity and skill, as during their last assault they had fought with a ferocity we had not seen in two hundred years since the last Viking raid, yet they were humble and courageous in defeat, stoically accepting their fate. King Aurelian thus spared them and instead offered them sanctuary on Almencia, granting them a new home if they would swear fealty to him and serve in his army. Agnar eagerly accepted this offer."

"What? Why would the king make that offer after they tried to raid you?" J.J. asked in disbelief.

"Partially, as I said, because the king respected their skill and humility, but he also wished for us to study the Normans' tactics. While we were successful in repelling the siege due to our technology, the king felt our tactics needed to be re-evaluated, as the Normans had managed to scale our walls in their last assault, which had never been done before. King Aurelian felt that there was much Agnar could teach us about modern warfare. For his part, Agnar was fascinated by our advanced weapons and armor, and was more than happy to accept lands and a title of minor nobility. Apparently, he was only the bastard son of a minor lord in Normandy, and the king's offer granted him legitimacy and gave his men a home, rather than forcing them to live in the wilds as little more than bandits. It was mutually beneficial."

"And the king never worried about him turning traitor?" J.J. asked skeptically.

"At first, yes, Sir Agnar and his men were watched very closely. After two years, however, it was clear that they were faithfully abiding by their oath of fealty. What's more, their presence was changing Almencia's outlook towards the world. I was one of the ones affected," Tristan said with a wry smile.

"How so?" J.J. asked, pausing to set Tristan against a wall while he pulled out his dairy to keep watch for Dr. Newman. As they'd been traveling for a while through the catacombs, he figured they could use another break, and the darkness gave them a decent cover.

"Even before the failed invasion, some of us Almencians were starting to feel like we were living in a cage, isolated on a lonely island where we would quietly live out our lives, and then die without ever achieving anything. The Normans simply made things worse in that regard. Once they were settled, we natives began talking with them, and we found them quite friendly… at least now that they were no longer attempting to kill us. I used to sneak out to their portion of the city whenever I could, where they would feast, sing songs, and tell stories. They brought with them tales of adventure and excitement, of far-off lands like Rus, Sicily, and North Africa. It stoked in many of us younger Almencians a desire to do more with our lives. I don't remember which one specifically, but it was after hearing one of these stories that I decided I wanted to become Sir Agnar's squire," Tristan said, a nostalgic look in his eyes.

"I imagine Agnar took to that request immediately," J.J. commented sarcastically.

"It was… difficult to persuade him," Tristan admitted. "I approached him in a tavern one evening and asked him to make me his squire. His men laughed, but Sir Agnar at least took my request seriously. He told me, however, that he could not simply make me his squire, as I was not the son of a noble, or even a warrior, and I had no fighting experience. Thus, he insisted that I gain some experience working with the city guard, and perhaps in a couple years he would reconsider my request."

"And the rules of heredity being what they are, your father wasn't happy with your decision to give up being a smith to go run off to join the army, right?" J.J. asked. Tristan grinned in reply with a mischievous look that J.J. had never seen on the knight's face before.

"That he was not," Tristan agreed. "Fortunately, eventually my mother was able to calm him down and remind him that my younger brother, Titus, could still inherit the smithy, and that he had more of an interest in smithing than I did anyways. And it was not as if joining the guard was a dishonorable career. It took my mother more than a week to finally convince my father, but he eventually relented, and by the end of the month I was in the city barracks with a few other boys."

"You mentioned that Agnar was the captain of the guard as well, right?" J.J. asked.

"He was, yes. And as I mentioned before, the training was brutal. We arose before dawn, ate a scant meal of porridge, and spent the early morning running until we were exhausted. We then polished the other guards' equipment and cleaned the barracks and stables until noon, when we were permitted a small meal, usually stale bread and hard cheese. The afternoon was devoted to teaching us how to properly fight with arms and armor, and we learned from any guards or knights that were willing to teach us. The only decent meal of the day was dinner, often after sundown when we were so tired that we could barely taste it. At least the evening was ours, but we were expected to continue training in other ways. As I wished to be a squire, I taught myself reading, writing, and court etiquette, which I would have already learned if I was noble-born and had started as a page. I was well behind in those studies, but I worked hard and eventually caught up to the other boys. The training did not seem as difficult as we grew older, and by the time I was fourteen, it had become routine. That was when Sir Agnar approached me."

"Did he?" J.J. asked, more quietly. He put his hand up, feeling his diary vibrating again. A moment later, though, it stopped, leaving him confused and nervous. He gripped his sword a bit more tightly, glancing from side to side suspiciously, as if he expected the minotaur to round the next corner.

"Yes," Tristan said, apparently oblivious to J.J.'s concern. "He told me that he was impressed with my dedication, as he had expected me to stop pursuing my goal of becoming a knight long before my thirteenth birthday. What's more, he had noted how earnestly I had sought to improve myself by learning new skills, even despite my handicap compared to my peers. He informed me that I had shown a mixture of talent and devotion that was rare, and which were exactly the qualities a good retainer needed. He then formally offered me the chance to become his squire. It was, at the time, the happiest moment of my life," Tristan said, a nostalgic look on his face while he gazed at one of the tomb's plaques.

J.J. had only been half-listening as his diary began vibrating more rapidly. Gritting his teeth, he muttered under his breath, "What I wouldn't give for a guidepost of some sort…."

"Page, take a look at the plaques," Tristan said suddenly, grunting as he pushed himself up and pointing at the nearest one. J.J. blinked and moved closer, examining the name embossed in brass. "Eugene von Brandenburg, b. 1819, d. 1881. What about it?" he asked.

"Take a look at the one to its left," Tristan said. "Perished in 1880. Then if you look around the corner, the next one was in 1878."

J.J.'s eyes widened suddenly. "The dates of death are in descending order. So if we follow the plaques, we'll have an idea where we are! Agh! Why didn't I think of that?!" J.J. cried, smacking his forehead.

"You have been attempting to escape a minotaur in near-total darkness while assisting me," Tristan pointed out. "It is easy for one's vision to narrow in those circumstances."

"Which makes me wonder why Dr. Newman hasn't been attacking us," J.J. muttered, looking around warily. "I keep hearing him, but if he's able to navigate this maze more easily than we are, he must know where we are by now. Why's he just stalking us? Why not attack us?"

"Do not dwell on it overmuch. Just enjoy the fact that we have been fortunate thus far," Tristan suggested.

"Right. So, if we head towards the more recent dates, we should find ourselves at the entrance. Let's head that way," J.J. said. Tristan, however, hesitated as J.J. extended his hand to help him up. Noting this, the writer asked, "What's wrong?"

"Forgive me, but I believe you had it backwards," Tristan said. "I recall that the more ancient dates were closer to the entrance. We should head that way.'

J.J. immediately recognized that Tristan was lying, underlined when the knight looked away uneasily. "Right… what's your real reason for wanting to go that way?" J.J. asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"…I was hoping that we might uncover more of the past if we traveled in that direction," Tristan said after pausing for a long moment. "There are still many questions that I have which remain unanswered."

J.J. chewed the inside of his cheek, weighing their options. On the one hand, he wanted to make for the exit as soon as possible. He'd already promised himself that he wouldn't spend more time in the catacombs than he had to. However, he was beginning to wonder if Dr. Newman wasn't just stalking them, but corralling them, keeping them away from the exit. Dr. Newman's minotaur form apparently gave him some supernatural ability to successfully keep track of where he was in maze-like environments. It was possible that the doctor was herding them where he wanted, using J.J.'s caution to his advantage.

More importantly, though, was the fact that J.J. was feeling increasingly guilty. Tristan finally had an opportunity to learn more about what had happened to his people, and the answers seemed to be just out of their reach. He might have a point, that the answers about what had happened to Almencia might lie deeper in the crypts. Of course, there was always the chance that they would run into Shards, or worse. However, J.J. knew he had become more skilled since then, and while he wasn't confident enough to say that he was a good fighter by any stretch, he was at least sure he could fight off a few Shards. Plus, Gwen had said that there was more than one exit from the catacombs. Maybe by doing something counter-intuitive, they would be able to avoid Dr. Newman and find their own way out. All in all, he concluded, there was no reason not to grant Tristan's request. Especially after everything the knight had done for him.

"Alright," J.J. said, helping Tristan to his feet and slinging his arm over his shoulders. "We'll take a look, and if we don't find anything, we can always turn around. By the way, thanks for pointing out the plaques. I don't think I would have thought of that myself."

"Of course," Tristan nodded, putting his other hand against the smooth wall beside him to continue bracing himself.

"Mind continuing the story?" J.J. added, glancing at him from behind his mask. "This walk might take a while, and you have me curious now." There was no point in being quiet anyways, if Dr. Newman knew where they were.

"Certainly," Tristan replied. "I must say, I am flattered that you find my story so fascinating."

"You're a knight from a thousand years ago sharing tales of adventure to a fantasy writer," J.J. pointed out, letting out a soft laugh. "I think the only person who would be more interested is Dr. Newman."

"Point taken. In any case, life… honestly became dull for me for quite some time after Sir Agnar accepted me as his squire," Tristan continued. "Much of what I did as a squire mirrored what I had already learned while training with the city guard. He expected me to look after his arms, armor, and horse, and I learned combat and etiquette from him in exchange. Life became… routine, I suppose. It was even comfortable. The only major difference was whom we served.

"Shortly after I became a squire, King Aurelian sadly passed away, peacefully and in his sleep. He was succeeded by his eldest son, Domitius, third of his name. Domitius was part of my generation, the generation that believed that we should begin turning our sights beyond the shores of Almencia."

"Wait… I thought you said you didn't have imperial aspirations," J.J. said cautiously.

"We didn't," Tristan answered firmly. "What I mean is that we had been isolated for generations, save for the occasional visit by a trading vessel. King Domitius wished to change that by reopening widespread diplomatic and trade relations with other kingdoms. He was young when he took the throne, only twenty-two years of age, and the elders cautioned him that by opening Almencia to trade, he was inviting trouble in the form of more invasions from curious and power-hungry barbarians. Our king, however, believed that we were more than capable of protecting ourselves, pointing out how easily we repelled the Norman assault, and thus he insisted that we had no reason to fear the mainland Europeans. Rather, he wished introduce new goods to Almencia, like those the Normans had brought from Rus and Sicily.

"King Domitius was also the one to promote Sir Agnar to the captain of the royal guard, rather than merely the city guard, effectively granting him command of Almencia's army. Again, the elders were not pleased by King Domitius' decision to give a would-be raider command of the entire army, but King Domitius insisted that Sir Agnar had more than proven his loyalty to the throne, and that he was the finest warrior Almencia had. For my part, as his squire, I was given new responsibilities. For instance, Sir Agnar's new armor always had to be spotless, and my behavior was constantly scrutinized to ensure that I did nothing to dishonor my master. In exchange, though, I was permitted a small bed in the royal keep, and I was privy to many secrets that never left the walls of the castle. I was in a rather unique position, especially compared to the other squires."

Tristan paused to catch his breath, and J.J. glanced at one of the walls, checking the date on the nearest tomb, which was dated 1771. Privately, he was relieved that they weren't just wasting their time by going further back in time. He knew Marville had been founded after the Revolution, so the Marks family had indeed transported servants from before the city's creation. For what purpose and how was another matter, he mused, but at least there was a point to heading deeper into the catacombs. Maybe they would indeed find something from Tristan's era if they were lucky. His thoughts were interrupted as Tristan resumed talking.

"King Domitius also had a keen interest in alchemy, which was highly unusual for a member of the royal family. He had always been fascinated by the wonders that Lord Quintus produced, and he insisted that Lord Quintus move into the castle so that he could more closely observe his projects. Our lord obliged, and whenever King Domitius was not on the throne, he could likely be found in Lord Quintus' lab, observing his work like an eager apprentice. In turn, my father was likewise called to the castle more often, to assist Lord Quintus whenever his experiments involved metal. Father rarely acknowledged me during these visits, though I scarcely cared at the time," Tristan said with a wry chuckle. "I was too busy focusing on my own training, and I was under the impression that my father wanted little to do with me anyways. We were never cold to each other, but we were always… distant."

Tristan looked down at the floor, and J.J. noticed the somber expression he was wearing. "I'm sure he was proud of you, even if he didn't say it," J.J. assured him. Tristan looked up and smiled briefly.

"There are some things that do not need to be said between men… but it would be nice to have heard it from him," Tristan admitted. "In any case, King Domitius energetically enacted his plans to improve the kingdom, and within a year, we were enjoying the new luxuries that our fleets brought in from around the world. Spices, dyes, fabrics, and many other things that we had never seen before suddenly appeared in our markets. It stoked my own sense of adventure and renewed my desire to become a proper knight in my own right. Yet for all our prosperity, we somehow avoided likewise drawing the covetous eyes of raiders and pirates. Only once did a foreign fleet approach our shores, and they were swiftly driven away by our own vessels. Thus, while my years as a squire were comfortable, I found myself wishing they were more… exciting."

"Be careful what you wish for, mm?" J.J. commented, glancing at the nearest date on the walls. Tristan let out a short laugh.

"Indeed. I was knighted without much ceremony when I was twenty-two, and Sir Agnar insisted on keeping me as one of his retainers, so I was made one of the royal guards. Some of my peers clearly resented my lofty position, but as with so many other things, King Domitius was deaf to their complaints. Still, as the years went on, Almencia prospered, yet the king seemed to grow increasingly… restless. It was almost as if he was filled with the same desire for adventure that I was. He was already being hailed as a good king, yet he seemed to want to have a legacy that went beyond merely satisfactory. He seemed to want to be enshrined in legend. I recall that while he had always spent time with Lord Quintus, he later seemed to spend almost every waking hour in his labs, assisting my lord with some project. For my part, it was rather dull guarding an empty throne, but we were not permitted to follow the king into the laboratory, so I had no clue what they were working on."

"And what they were working on… were the D-formers, right?" J.J. asked.

"Not exactly," Tristan replied. "I was in my late twenties and had taken on a squire of my own – Devon, if you'll recall – when the king finally unveiled the project he had been working on. He had commissioned Lord Quintus to build a pair of constructs that seemed to us to be heavenly beings, one shrouded in white and the other in black, each with six wings of their respective colors. King Domitius told the populace that they merely had to speak their wishes to the angelic beings, and they would be granted whatever they needed to fulfill their own destinies. Naturally, the kingdom hailed him as an unparalleled hero, and for the next several weeks, supplicants threw themselves at the feet of these angelic beings. The white figure ignored every wish, however, while the black one granted any request, so everyone turned to the black seraph as the answer to their prayers."

"This… sounds entirely too convenient," J.J. said. "What was this, some sort of test Domitius was posing for your people? Those that're worthy wouldn't have need of wishes in the first place or something? It sounds like a fable."

"Doesn't it?" Tristan agreed. "But for us, it was reality, and the black seraph never failed to grant any desire asked of it, asking nothing in return. All it did was provide them with a slip of paper and a jewel – the D-formers. And every person was granted some ability to help them achieve their goals. We heard miraculous stories. A fisherman who wished for a larger catch could now swallow the sea and regurgitate fish, feeding his family for weeks. A farmer who'd had a bad harvest could now touch his crops, and they would flower and fruit before his very eyes. A merchant could turn lead into gold without the aid of alchemy. Almencia turned into a magical paradise overnight. At least… until the first Diemons began to appear."

Tristan's expression darkened, though J.J. only barely noticed it, as he was still trying to count down plaques, vaguely wondering how many there were. "The Diemons were, at first, unstoppable. As you've seen, normal steel does nothing to them, and shortly after their first appearance, we were overrun by the first dozen or so victims. Lord Quintus was immediately vilified, but I pitied him. He'd merely done as the king had asked, and had not been aware of the consequences of his work. He and my father immediately began devising a weapon to combat the Diemons while we of the guard attempted to protect the castle."

"What about the Shards?" J.J. asked. "Wouldn't they be a bigger problem in a siege?"

"They had not begun to appear," Tristan replied. "The Shards only appeared late into the crisis, thankfully. The Diemons were more than enough of a problem anyways, though we simply called them 'monsters.' For two weeks, we held the line, as the Diemons were more concerned with indulging their vices than any sort of coordinated attack. We simply had to keep the people safe. Thankfully, Lord Quintus' research soon bore fruit, and he gifted myself and Sir Agnar with the first belts – the Fantasy Drivers. With them, we were able to clad ourselves in an alchemical armor that could successfully combat the Diemons, and we soon won our first victories for the crown."

"Neither of you used this Driver, did you?" J.J. asked, motioning to his armor. "You said this was given to your squire, right?"

"Indeed, though that was later," Tristan said. "Only after the Shards appeared did a third suit become necessary, and Lord Quintus also designed your armor with functions that ours lacked. It also seemed to be less combat oriented than the first suits of armor. My armor and Sir Agnar's were designed to exterminate them. Thus, unlike with your method of defeating the Diemons non-lethally, we were unfortunately forced to slay those that had succumbed to the power of their D-formers." Tristan's face darkened as he looked at J.J. sadly. "You cannot understand what that is like, page. To be forced turn your blade on someone you swore to protect. To force yourself to end a life, even knowing that it was not their fault. You find yourself constantly wondering if there was another way. If you had been faster, whether you could have saved them from themselves. And since learning from you that there was indeed another way… every time I think about the lives I took, I feel far worse."

J.J. stopped, putting his free hand on Tristan's shoulder, and he said softly, "Tristan, you didn't know at the time. You couldn't have known. There's no point in blaming yourself because you lacked information."

"Your words are kind, page, but I am afraid they lack weight," Tristan said somberly. "Slaying another person changes you, especially when it is someone you know you could have saved. It is a scar that will always be on your soul."

J.J. didn't know what to say to that, so he and Tristan simply trudged along for a while, an uncomfortable, heavy silence hanging in the air. After what felt like an hour, but what could have only been a few minutes, J.J. asked, "So how did the war end?"

"Unfortunately, more people were turning into Diemons, and still more people were using D-formers by the day, despite the fact that they knew they too would become monsters in time," Tristan said, his expression turning stony. "Thus, I, Sir Agnar, and Devon devised a plan to cut the head off the snake, so to speak. We used a knight who claimed he wished to have a D-former of his own as a lure to bring the Black Seraph into the open. Once the seraph appeared, we attacked, the three of us unleashing our full fury on him. In the fight, Sir Agnar was slain, but in doing so, he opened a wound on the Black Seraph that gave me an opening and allowed me to finish him with a final blow. However, the Black Seraph warned me that the blow I had struck was not enough to destroy him, and that he would return in a thousand years once he had recovered. Lord Quintus ran some calculations after the battle and confirmed what the Black Seraph had said, and sadly warned me that the world was still in danger. He said that I had earned a rest, but I asked if there was any way I might preserve the peace for future generations, so he informed me of an alchemical procedure that would freeze me in time and allow me to face the Black Seraph once more in the future, to finally save Almencia. My faithful squire, Devon, swore to protect the current Almencia in my stead, and thus I agreed to allow Lord Quintus to freeze me in time. The last thing that I recall was being lowered into the tomb where you found me, with my father, Lord Quintus, and Devon standing over me and wishing me good fortune. The next thing I remember was waking to a dark room and sitting up to see you. I have no recollection of anything else, and I was unaware Almencia had been lost. I had thought I had saved it, and yet… everything I did, all of it, seems to have been for nothing."

J.J. remained silent for a while, gazing at the depressed look on Tristan's face. Finally, he said softly, "You're not responsible for what happened after you were entombed. It's like trying to blame yourself for not saving a village because you were a thousand miles away."

"Even so," Tristan murmured. J.J. shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.

"Well… I don't think Almencia disappeared the way you think," J.J. said. Tristan slowly looked up at him, a bemused expression on his face. "Consider this. The turn of the millennium was the start of the High Middle Ages, an age of what was a small renaissance for Europe," J.J. continued. "New armor was introduced in a relatively short span of time after the year 1000, and new technologies were swiftly invented. Now, one could say that this was due to the temperatures rising, giving people more food and thus more leisure time, and that enough time had passed since Rome fell that Europe had finally begun to recover. But who thought up the new technologies? It's possible that the trade ships your king sent out also had Almencians on them who introduced the rest of Europe to new ideas. Their descendants might have brought to Europe to the advanced techniques of your homeland, and in their own way, helped bring Europe out of the 'Dark Ages' and into the proper age of chivalry and knighthood. In that way, Almencia lived on."

It was a baseless theory, and they both knew it, but nevertheless, Tristan smiled at him. "You are kind, page," he said. He seemed about ready to say something else, but stopped as his eyes fell on one coffin in particular. His eyes widened with what J.J. registered as delighted surprise, and he turned to face the coffin as well. The name on the plaque read "Ignatius Farri," and the date of death was labeled as 1019.

Tears began to well up in Tristan's eyes as he disentangled himself from J.J.'s grasp, and he pressed his hands to the smooth stone of the coffin. In a choked voice, he whispered, "Father…!" Turning to J.J., he added quickly, "Help me get this down, please. I'd like to take one last look at my father's bones."

J.J.'s enhanced strength made pulling the coffin off of the shelf a simple task, and he placed it gently on the ground, before pushing the lid off. The heavy stone clattered against the floor loudly, echoing through the maze, and J.J. winced, drawing his sword in case that had attracted Dr. Newman. Tristan, meanwhile, knelt over the coffin, gazing down at the skeleton within with tears silently running down his face. He remained silent for a long minute while J.J. stood guard, nervously shifting from one leg to another.

"Thank you, page," Tristan said finally, looking up at him. "You did not have to go out of your way to do this for me, and I am unspeakably grateful."

"I already said you don't have to thank me," J.J. replied shortly, glancing down. He frowned behind his mask, though, when he spied something near the skeleton's feet. "What's that?" he asked, pointing.

Tristan looked down, and he reached inside to pull out an ornate box made of a dull, silvery metal. He tried lifting the lid and found it was unlocked. Reaching inside, he pulled out a remarkably well-preserved scroll of parchment, which he unraveled and read. His expression was unreadable as his eyes traveled down the paper, and J.J. grew steadily more curious, until he finally piped up, "Mind if I ask what it says?"

Tristan glanced up at him, then read aloud, "To my son Tristan. If you are reading this, then by some miracle, my death was not in vain. The last few days have been hell on earth, a second crisis, only this time the monsters are our own people – those who did not even become those horrid creatures. I fear that I will soon be killed with the rest of the castle. However, I wished to leave you this. First, allow me to tell you how proud of you I am for the man you became. It was not the path I had set for you, but I am glad you continued to follow it, and I am sorry that I could never tell you in person that I admire your resolve to do what you wished with your life. However, there is yet one important lesson you must learn. You always saw Almencia bathed in a golden light, unwilling to perceive the shadows of our society. Thus, I doubt you will accept what I have left you in this box, unless you are willing to accept the dark truth that comes with it. It will save you, but only if you are willing to compromise your own perceptions of Almencia. Do that, and this will prove to be your salvation, not your damnation. Until that time, though, son, know that your mother and I are proud of you, and will always be watching over you."

J.J. stared at Tristan as he finished reading. "Well… that's vague," he said dryly. "So what'd he leave you?"

"It doesn't matter what was left behind," came a low, guttural voice from the darkness. J.J. swung around as Tristan stood up slowly, clutching the box tightly. Out of the darkness stepped the minotaur, followed by a squad of Shards, whose electric blue shapes lit up the corridor. From behind them came a second squad, which slowly crept towards them, their hollow eyes burning brightly in the low light. "It belongs to me now, regardless of what it is," Dr. Newman continued.

"What, not satisfied just stealing those scrolls?" J.J. snarled, twirling his sword once to loosen his muscles. "Gotta get your hands on everything in here?"

"You should be thanking me," Dr. Newman snorted. "I have shown you incredible mercy. I was going to attack you long before now, but your friend's story was fascinating. A historical account from an eyewitness that I can use as a primary source? For a historian, that is like striking gold. So, I decided to follow you and listen in, and while I did, these fascinating creatures came out of nowhere and began following me. They seem inclined to do as I instruct, which is why they haven't attacked you yet. So, here are my demands, boy. Simply surrender your friend and that box, and I'll be on my way."

J.J. glanced around himself at the Shards, before smirking and shaking his head. "You clearly didn't do enough research, then. I can handle a couple of Shards, no problem."

"Of course you can," Dr. Newman smirked. "But can you do so while defending your friend from all angles?"

J.J. blinked, then began to laugh. Dr. Newman's smirk faded as J.J. pinned him with a stare from behind his mask. "Please. Tristan doesn't need me to defend him."

Turning around, J.J. spun his sword around and offered the hilt to Tristan, who looked up at him with a surprised expression. "Page, are you certain?" Tristan asked hesitantly. "I am wounded, and you are not accustomed to fighting unarmed."

"Yeah, but like I said, it's only a few Shards," J.J. replied simply, still holding out the sword. "Dr. Newman can't attack us with all these Shards in the way, after all. You're a better swordsman than I am, even injured. And I trust you to cover my back," he added.

Tristan's remained silent for a moment, and then he slowly reached out and took the sword. Glancing to his left, he reached out and also pulled a decorative steel shield off of one of the walls, strapping it to his left arm. "And I trust you to cover mine, page," Tristan replied firmly, facing the Shards in front of him in a ready stance, his feet planted with the shield out in front of him and the sword cocked behind it, ready to strike. "A word of advice, then. Fight as though you are dueling. Remain light on your feet, and use short, quick blows. Do not overextend past your guard."

"Aye cap'n," J.J. replied with a grin, turning around to face the other half of the Shards with his back against Tristan's. He slowly raised his fists in a rough approximation of a boxer's stance, hoping that he at least looked more competent than he felt. From behind the gaggle of Shards, Dr. Newman sighed irritably.

"Why are you two so hell-bent on making this expedition difficult? Very well. Shards, was it? Retrieve that box for me," he ordered, snapping his fingers. Immediately, the two squads of Shards swarmed towards them, claws outstretched.

J.J. was able to dodge the first swipe of a Shard's claw, swaying backwards, but then he reflexively attacked it with a stabbing motion. His hand smacked off the hard, stony skin of the Shard, which gave him a bemused look as he winced and shook his hand out. "Damn muscle memory!" he snapped. The Shard seemed confused, but nevertheless took another swipe at him, which he blocked with his left hand, catching it on the wrist. He responded by cocking his right arm back and punching the Shard firmly in the face. Thanks to his enhanced strength and his suit's protection, he simply felt as if he had punched a wall with his hands wrapped in leather – he felt the blow, but it didn't particularly hurt. The Shard shook its head, but J.J. followed it up with two quick jabs with his left hand, before kicking it in the chest and sending it sprawling backwards into its compatriots.

Behind him, he heard a metallic ring, and he glanced behind himself for an instant to see how Tristan was faring. The knight had planted his feet, keeping most of his weight on his uninjured front foot, as he blocked a wild swipe from one of the Shards, knocking it away with his shield. He responded by viciously slashing it across the throat, reducing the Shard to dust, but then he grunted as another Shard slammed its shoulder into him, trying to knock him backwards. J.J. then turned back around in time to duck under an attacker's fist. He crouched down and delivered a hard kick to the Shard's shin, making the monster fall to its knees. Standing up, he viciously kicked it across the jaw, before stepping back to meet the next Shard that was throwing its claws at him.

J.J. was able to catch the Shard's hands, but he was unused to grappling, and he found himself being pushed backwards by its bestial strength. Grunting, he tried pushing back, but he was being bent backwards, its claws closing towards his throat. Suddenly, his blade appeared in the Shard's throat, and it crumbled to dust. Tristan smiled down at him briefly before raising his shield to block another strike from a Shard. "Experiencing a bit of difficulty, page?" he asked smugly.

"Shut up. I've never even been in a street fight," J.J. replied bitterly, bringing his guard up in time to soften a punch from a Shard, which nevertheless broke through his defense to score a light blow across his face. He snapped his head with the blow and growled as he kicked the Shard's legs out from under it, pushing it away from him. "So, yeah, I'm not used to fighting without a weapon."

"We shall rectify this in our next training session," Tristan assured him, smiling faintly.

"Glad you're not moping anymore, at least," J.J. muttered, throwing a hard right hook at the fifth Shard, though the blow missed entirely, and he had to step back to keep from being overwhelmed. "You're back to being the smug mentor now."

"I can afford to be," Tristan grunted, stabbing one of the Shards through the chest before catching another blow with the flat of his blade. "Since my student has gotten to the point where I no longer have to look after him."

Despite himself, J.J. smiled, and he hit the Shard in front of him with a hard right cross, sending it sprawling to the ground with the rest of its squad. While they hadn't been reduced to ash, they were taking their time struggling to their feet, indicating that his attacks were at least having some effect on them. Tristan dispatched his last opponent and whistled to get J.J.'s attention, handing his sword back. Weapon in hand, J.J. walked over to the fallen Shards and quickly slashed them, reducing the footsoldiers to dust. Dr. Newman stepped through the piles of dust, snarling at the two younger men as he reached out towards them.

"Useless creatures. Give me the box!" he snapped.

"Tristan, mind if I take that? I won't look inside," J.J. assured him. Tristan nodded, handing over the box. Turning to Dr. Newman, J.J. added, "Come after me. I've got what you're after."

"I could just kidnap your friend," Dr. Newman pointed out, but he paused as he looked back and forth between the pair.

"Tristan already told his story," J.J. pointed out. "He's of no use to your research anymore. This, however, is," he added, smirking behind his mask as he held up the box.

The minotaur hesitated, as if realizing that J.J. had a point, and then he let out a roar of frustration. "I told you to give me that box!" he bellowed, charging at J.J., who pressed himself flat against the walls of the catacombs, narrowly avoiding being bowled over. Tristan did the same, and the doctor charged past him.

"Head for the exit!" J.J. told Tristan quickly as he began running the opposite direction, deeper into the maze. "I'll meet you topside!" Tristan nodded, limping away as Dr. Newman charged after J.J., bellowing with rage.

Now that he understood the system to navigate the maze, J.J. didn't fear getting lost in the catacombs, so he could take more risks. He began to randomly take turns and duck behind walls to avoid the the minotaur until he was sure he was out of sight, though he only felt safe once the vibrations of his diary had stopped. He pressed himself against one of the walls to catch his breath, resting his thumb on the blue D-former sticking out of the spine of his diary.

"Right… there's one thing that archaeologists hate more than anything else, and that's thieves," J.J. said to himself. "Let's see how the Nebraska Smith over there deals with a tomb robber."

He spun the blue D-former, and his Driver shouted into the crypt, **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** The declaration was immediately followed by the sound of a saxophone playing a few sultry notes. J.J. was enveloped in a hexagonal holographic sapphire, which spun around him rapidly as his armor shifted. As the spinning stopped, he looked down to find himself clad in a new outfit. The leather jerkin he wore had opened in the front, so that now he was wearing a dark blue jacket that stopped just above his waist and exposed the black bodysuit covering his chest beneath it. As an added touch, a dark blue scarf was now wrapped around his neck. His boots had likewise turned blue, ending at his shins, and he was now wearing a pair of blue kneepads. His helmet had turned dark blue as well, with a pair of crossed daggers where his "ears" would have been, and the rhombuses that made up his "eyes" were now gleaming like dark sapphires. His sword seemed to have shrunk and split, so that he now found himself holding a pair of foot-long daggers, one of which he transferred to his left hand. Exhaling, he took a moment to roll his neck before he took off running into the maze.

He'd had a chance to practice with the Thief Class for a few days, so he was well aware that this was his fastest form, and that his reflexes had been enhanced. He could also deal a good amount of damage, somewhat more than his Adventurer Class, though far less than Warrior Class. However, the form's biggest weakness was its lack of defense. Against someone as strong as the Minotaur, he doubted he could take more than a couple of hits before his life was in danger. Therefore, he had to be particularly clever with this form, he thought to himself. Constant offense, constant dodging, and not giving his opponent a chance to counter-attack.

In an odd reversal of what he had gone through for the past hour or so, he began hunting Dr. Newman through the maze, keeping an eye out for him as he sped past the tombs. Because he couldn't rely on his diary while in a different class, he perked his ears up, using every sense he had to try and track down the doctor. He finally heard the doctor snorting to his right, trying to sniff him out. Picking up his pace, he sped around another corner and dashed towards the doctor's exposed flank. The minotaur turned just in time to see J.J.'s blades flash, delivering a pair of vicious slashes, one to his arm and the other to one of his legs. He dove past the Diemon and resumed running before Dr. Newman could respond, leaving the beast roaring impotently in pain as J.J. turned a corner.

J.J. pressed himself flat against a wall again and took a moment to catch his breath. Thankfully, the form also had good stamina and recovery, and within a few seconds he was no longer even breathing heavily. To his left, he heard Dr. Newman stampeding towards him, so he took off again, rounding another corner to come up behind the minotaur's exposed back. This time, he stabbed both blades deep into Dr. Newman's shoulder blades, leaving him screaming in pain again, and after twisting the daggers, J.J. pulled back and ducked under the expected counter-blow from the doctor's axe. He did not, however, expect Dr. Newman to kick at him as well. The hoof caught him square in the chest, and he felt the wind get knocked out of him as he was thrown backwards into a wall. Grunting, he pushed himself to his knees, noting how much more that blow had hurt compared to any of his other forms. He really could not afford to take another hit like that, he thought blearily.

The sound of thundering hoofbeats snapped him out of his daze, and he pushed himself into a crouching position and leapt backwards just as Dr. Newman's axe crashed into the ground where he had been laying down. Pieces of flagstone chipped off and went flying, bouncing off the tombs, as J.J. slipped backwards and melted into the shadows. Dr. Newman snorted as he sniffed the air, growling, "You know you can't hide from me, boy."

Glancing to his left, J.J. was struck with an idea. He swiftly began climbing the rough stone walls, clambering up over the coffins, until he was hanging off a ledge about ten feet off the ground. He spied a pebble on one of the ledges and tossed it into the darkness, behind the minotaur. Dr. Newman snapped his head in that direction, then chuckled darkly.

"Like that trick's going to fool me!" he taunted the darkness, instead charging in the opposite direction from the sound, running right under J.J. Once the minotaur was close enough, J.J. dropped down from above, his twin daggers sinking deep into the doctor's back, with J.J. letting gravity do most of the work. Dr. Newman screamed in agony as J.J.'s slid down his back, his blades carving deep gashes next to the beast's spine, and J.J. quickly yanked the blades free as he jumped backwards again, avoiding another wild strike from the doctor, who was now wheezing in pain.

Sensing that the doctor was vulnerable, he dove forward again. He tried to slash the doctor's wrist, hoping to disarm him, but Dr. Newman saw the move and yanked his hand out of the way in time, so J.J. only scored a minor hit along his forearm instead. It must have been painful, but hardly crippling, J.J. thought as he swayed out of the way of Dr. Newman's fist. He needed to end this, especially since the doctor seemed to be getting his second wind, thanks to his rage fueling him.

"I'm sick of you dancing around, boy!" the doctor roared as J.J. backed away from him. "Stand and fight!"

"I'll pass, thank you," J.J. taunted him. "What's wrong, can't keep up? You were the one who was bragging about his sense of direction down here. How does it feel to be the one lost in the labyrinth, minotaur?"

"You little brat!" Dr. Newman bellowed, hefting his axe over his shoulder to swing it furiously at him. Before he could, J.J. put his thumb on his blue D-former and gave it another spin.

 **"Critical!"** the die shouted, enveloping J.J. briefly in a spinning blue crystal, before it abruptly disappeared. J.J. blinked, glancing around, wondering why nothing had happened. However, in front of him, the doctor muttered, "Where'd he go?"

J.J. glanced down at his body, and quckly realized that he'd become transparent. Gritting his teeth, he gripped his knives and he rushed forward, intending to take advantage of his invisibility, as he didn't know how long he had. In the span of eight seconds, he dashed around Dr. Newman, delivering over a dozen strikes to him in various parts of his body – chest, arms, legs, back, before finishing with a final vicious slash across the beast's neck. He then stepped past the minotaur as his invisibility dissipated. J.J. took a mental note, thinking that he probably had about ten seconds of invisibility using that Critical.

Behind him, he could hear Dr. Newman's piercing scream of pain, and J.J. pulled the diary off of his Driver and flipped it open to the doctor's stat page, reverting to his base class as he did. He watched the health bar of the minotaur drain to zero, and when he heard the sound of breaking glass behind him, he snapped the book shut. Turning around, he saw the doctor collapse to the floor, his D-former and page lying on the ground beside him as the last remnants of the minotaur evaporated.

In that moment, J.J. suddenly remembered that he couldn't take any more D-formers, and his heart caught in his throat. Hesitantly, he walked over and grabbed the minotaur's page first, placing it in his diary, before he knelt down to pick up the D-former. As he touched it, however, it suddenly shattered before his eyes before crumbling to bits in front of him.

Panic seized J.J. as he quickly glanced over at Dr. Newman, trying to remain calm before he had a heart attack. He pulled his own D-former out of the diary, his suit dissipating, and he pressed his fingers quickly to the archaeologist's throat to check for a pulse. To his relief, he felt a heartbeat, and Dr. Newman was still breathing, but even then he wasn't sure if the doctor was on the verge of going into cardiac arrest or something. Gently, he rolled Dr. Newman onto his back and shook him, trying to wake the old man up.

After a few moments, the doctor groaned and slowly sat up, gazing at J.J. with bleary eyes. "Mr. Wells? What… what're we doing down here? I remember we were trying to find something…"

J.J. let out a choked laugh of relief at the doctor's response. "Yeah. But you took a few scrolls without asking, and-"

Dr. Newman's eyes widened with horror as he realized what J.J. was saying. "My word, I did! Where's my bag? I shall return those immediately! To think I would be in the state of mind to try to steal property without gaining the consent of the owners first! I must have been drunk…."

"Something like that," J.J. said, letting out a high-pitched laugh relief as he helped the doctor to his feet. "Come on. Let's return those scrolls, and then I really want to leave. I've had enough of these catacombs for one lifetime."

* * *

"It's been three days, and Dr. Newman still seems to be fine," J.J. announced as he sank into a seat across from Tristan in Gary's tavern. The knight was sitting with the box they had retrieved on the table in front of him, as J.J. had asked him to bring it along with him.

"Fortunate, but curious," Tristan admitted, folding his arms over the box as he stared at the cup of tea in front of him. "I would have assumed that the loss of the D-former would have killed him. Or at the very least, it would have caused him to suffer from an addiction he never would have recovered from. I wonder why he has shown no symptoms of D-former corruption."

"I have a theory, actually," J.J. said. "What if it's not the D-former that makes a person a Diemon, but the monster page they're given? In a tabletop RPG, it's your character sheet that makes your character who they are, not the dice. The dice are simply used to help you perform actions. What if it's the same concept here?"

"Perhaps, though this is reality, and not a game," Tristan warned J.J.

"My bruises agree," J.J. said with a grim smirk. "But anyways, maybe if I have their page, they're good to go. Four cases, none of them have had any problems."

"Perhaps," Tristan said again, non-committally. "I am glad that there have been no complications, but you must remain wary. Do not assume this is a perfect solution, especially as new Diemons are being created."

"Thanks for the optimism," J.J. scowled, nodding to Gary in thanks as the bartender set a glass of water in front of him."

"I am merely keeping you grounded," Tristan assured him blandly. "But that cannot be the only reason you ask me to come here, and to bring the box we retrieved. Why did you ask me to do so?" he asked curiously.

"Well, I did promise Gwen that we wouldn't take anything from the mansion," J.J. said with a sheepish grin as the blond girl came walking up behind him, her arms folded over his chest. "And since we did, I figured we should probably tell her about it…."

Tristan's eyes widened in horror, and he suddenly threw himself at Gwen's feet, attracting the curious stares of several tavern-goers while J.J. looked around uncomfortably. "My lady! Forgive my transgression!" Tristan stammered. "It was never my intention to steal from the lady of the Marks family! It is simply that in my excitement to view what my father had left behind, I did not consider my actions, and-"

"Tristan! Breathe!" Gwen interrupted. "And get off the floor, you're drawing attention! It's fine! I'm glad you two told me, but it's okay. I just didn't want Dr. Newman getting his greasy paws on family heirlooms or anything. That box, though, belongs to you, and you alone. It was left to you by your father, so it's your property, not mine."

Tristan's eyes widened as he picked himself up off the floor, gazing at the floor. "My lady is too gracious. Her beauty is matched only by her mercy, and-"

"Okay, seriously, shut up," Gwen said quickly, flushing slightly as she saw the slow grin crossing J.J.'s face. She swatted at him, and he laughed as he leaned back out of the way. "Speaking of, where'd that weasel Dr. Newman get off to anyways?"

"Eh, he's not so bad, really. He said he had a lot to think about, and that he was deeply ashamed of his actions. What little he can remember of them," J.J. said. "For now, he's going to keep teaching at the school while he works on a book about Almencia… without using references to anything going on here," he added with a sidelong look at Tristan. The knight nodded solemnly.

"I am glad that his pursuit of knowledge did not utterly consume him," Tristan said.

"Not that anyone would believe him anyways," J.J. added with a dismissive wave. "Even though I'm fighting Diemons on a daily basis, I still can't believe most of the stuff I've faced down. Outside of the people in this town, who would honestly take his findings seriously? A mythical island overrun by a pack of monsters? Right, that's not a fantasy novel at all. Come to think of it…." J.J. suddenly mused, trailing off as he began to consider something.

"By the way, Tristan, what's in the chest?" Gwen asked, suddenly changing the subject. "Mind if we see?"

Tristan's expression suddenly hardened, and he opened the lid of the box for a moment before shutting it firmly and locking it. "It is not something I wish to discuss right now," Tristan said firmly. "Perhaps another time I will share it, but for now, I've had enough digging through the past. It is high time that I turned my eyes back to the present conflict."

"Hear hear," J.J. said drily, holding up his glass in a lazy, mocking toast. "To the present, where you get to watch and I get to be the one getting tossed around by the Diemons instead."

Gwen and Tristan laughed as J.J. set down the tea, but J.J. couldn't help but notice Tristan peer inside the box one last time before snapping it shut firmly and locking it. What was inside was Tristan's business, and J.J. wouldn't pry, but he couldn't help but think back on the words Tristan's father had left for him… and wonder what darkness from his past Tristan still had yet to face.


	10. Session 10

**Session 10**

Though the morning had been quiet, though it had been raining since before J.J. had come into Gary's tavern to get some work done, taking advantage of a peaceful lull between Diemon attacks. Unfortunately, the shower outside reflected his dour mood, and the scowl plastered on his face warded off the few other patrons in the bar. J.J. had hit a snag in the latest chapter he had been writing, where he had somehow managed to box himself into a corner in the narrative. While he had managed to flesh out the backstory of the protagonist – a dragon who had been approached by a mysterious girl who had asked him to let her be his dragonrider – he was blanking on the rider's own backstory. He had originally made her a background character, but later decided he liked her character so much that she should be one of the focal points of the story. Now, though, with her increased importance, he felt that he had to give her a solid backstory, and thus, he was stuck.

J.J. caught movement over the top of his computer, and he glanced over it to see a blurry figure approaching him. As a warning, he glared over the rim of the computer until he saw that it was just Gary setting down a fresh plate of fries for him to munch on while he worked. The bartender gazed down at him with a sympathetic expression.

"You look like you're trying too hard," Gary commented.

"Yeah, well, after my last story flopped, I can't afford to have another miss," J.J. pointed out, trying to keep from sighing at having his concentration broken. "Plus, I'm a bit more pressed for time, since I wanted to get ten chapters done before I sent them off to a publisher for review. I'm still stuck on chapter seven, though. I can't live on library wages forever, and the royalties from the book that flopped are dwindling… what few royalties I was collecting to begin with," J.J. added, unable to keep the depression out of his voice.

"You know, you could just write about the monster attacks we've been having," Gary pointed out. "Those are fantastical enough, without even embellishing them."

"Eh… yeah, but I want to be a fantasy writer," J.J. replied hesitantly. "And I don't feel that writing about real life events counts as fantasy, no matter how unbelievable they are." Not to mention, he thought silently, writing about his battles with the Diemons would be incredibly narcissistic, even if he downplayed his own role in the conflict.

"It's your story," Gary shrugged. "But I still think you're overworking yourself. You've seemed rather stressed lately overall. Maybe you should take a break here soon."

"And do what?" J.J. snapped, but then bowed his head in apology and softened his tone. "I mean, that's part of why I come here to write, instead of working at home. I like the people and the atmosphere. It's not as if your tavern stresses me out or something."

"No, and I appreciate that. But I was thinking about closing up shop in a bit here and heading out to the local fair. I also invited most of the regulars to meet up here later, figuring we could make a day of it. Gwen already said she planned on going," he added with a sly smirk at J.J., who cleared his throat and looked away. "And I was thinking of giving Susumu a call and seeing if he and Tristan wanted to come along too."

J.J. stopped typing, looking up at the ceiling as he considered the offer. Before he could reply, though, the door opened, and J.J. stared in surprise at the figure who walked in. The man who strode confidently into the bar seemed far haggard than when J.J. had last seen him. He was wearing a crisp, clean suit that seemed freshly bought. His tan skin no longer had an ashen undertone, the bags under his eyes had faded, and his wavy black hair was now neatly combed on top of his head. He scanned the bar, before his eyes fell on J.J., and he grinned broadly.

"Mr. Wells! I was hoping I'd find you here!" he said cheerfully.

"Agni!" J.J. called out. Though he was obviously surprised to see the man, he was also unable to keep the grin off of his face. "What're you doing here? How'd you know I was here? What happened with the police? I thought you were in jail!"

"Easy, easy, one question at a time," Agni laughed, holding up his hand. "First off, I came looking for you, since I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me."

"Friend of yours?" Gary asked J.J. as Agni took a seat at the table across from him, while J.J. closed his laptop's lid.

"Yeah, I talked him through a few issues he was having," J.J. explained in a half-truth. He shot Agni a quick glance, and the other man nodded in agreement.

"Well, then, welcome to the Cup 'o Dice Tavern!" Gary said with a broad grin, holding his arms out in a welcoming gesture. "If you're looking to game while you're here, we have a wide selection on the shelves by the walls. Feel free to help yourself. In the meantime, can I get you anything?"

"Black tea?" Agni asked. Gary tossed a two-fingered salute and walked off to make the drink, leaving the pair alone.

"Anyways, it wasn't easy tracking you down," Agni explained, settling into a seat across from J.J. who closed the lid of his laptop. "I had to ask around town before someone mentioned that you worked at the library, and although you weren't there, one of your coworkers mentioned that you hang out here a lot. I'm glad I finally managed to find you. I wanted to thank you for saving me," Agni said with a sincere smile.

"Oh! You're welcome, but you really don't have to thank me," J.J. said, feeling a touch embarrassed. "I'm just glad you're feeling better. You haven't wanted to use a D-former again, have you?" he added in a softer voice.

"None," Agni assured him firmly, and J.J. let out a sigh of relief. "After the police arrested me, I had to spend a few days in jail while they set up a trial. In the end, it was decided that, based on my testimony, I was not in control of my actions at the time, and the jury could not in good conscience send me to prison, especially since I didn't know what I was getting into with the D-formers. I've been seeing a therapist for my anger issues, and I'm still on probation, but other than that, things seem to be looking up. I even managed to get hired by a new company."

"That's great!" J.J. said enthusiastically. "Which one?"

"It's a large, local corporation, and they put me in a marketing division," Agni said with a grin. "Which is part of the reason why I wanted to see you again. As thanks for helping me out, I wanted to see what I could do to help you with your writing," Agni said, motioning to his computer. "The head librarian said you'd been having some trouble getting published."

"Oh!" J.J. said, his eyes widening in surprise. "I… I appreciate the offer, Agni, but you don't have to go out of your way to-"

"Think of it as my way of thanking you," Agni insisted. "This isn't troubling me; rather, I want you to think of it as a gift."

J.J. looked away uneasily. "I just… I don't want special treatment because of what I've been doing while wearing that suit. It's an unfair advantage, since it feels like I'm only getting attention because of the monster attacks, rather than getting judged based on how good the book itself is."

"I'm not saying you'll automatically get published," Agni explained. "The publisher wouldn't know anything about your alter-ego. All I'd like to do is put you in contact with some people who can help you get your foot in the door. That's it. Think of me as an agent; I can help you get noticed, but I can't write the book for you. It's something you'd want to do anyways if you seriously intend to be a writer; I'm just pre-emptively offering my services."

J.J. sighed, still feeling a bit uncomfortable, but he gave Agni a wry grin. "I don't have much of a choice in the matter, do I?"

"Hey, you can always say no," Agni said, holding his hands up. "But you'd be stupid to do so."

"Alright, alright," J.J. chuckled, leaning back in the chair. "In that case, I'll just think of it as a gift from a friend. Thank you. Who'd you have in mind?"

"Well… since I figured you'd accept, I actually already invited someone," Agni said. J.J. narrowed his eyes in annoyance as Agni grinned apologetically. "If it makes you feel better, I can assure you he's one of the top-rated publishers in the country."

"Agh… fine, sure, I'll talk to him," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Where-?"

The door opened again, and a well-dressed man in his mid-forties stumbled in, blinking around behind a pair of thin glasses. He was balding and stood on the shorter side, made worse by his stooped posture as he looked around warily before spotting Agni and making his way over.

"You did not set up a meeting for right this minute," J.J. hissed.

"Actually, no. I was expecting you a little later, sir," Agni said, standing up and shaking the man's hand. "J.J., this is Mr. Neil Barton. Mr. Barton, this is my friend that I was telling you about, J.J. Wells."

"A pleasure," J.J. said, taking the man's hand, but an uneasy feeling settled over him as the man gave him a curious look.

"Did you say Jay Wells? You wouldn't happen to be the author of _The Witch-King of Sember_ , would you?" the man asked hesitantly. J.J. immediately felt his blood run cold at the question, and he shook his head quickly.

"You're mistaken. My name is J.J., with two 'J's,' not one," he insisted, taking a seat. Deciding to quickly change the subject before Mr. Barton could press him further, he added, "Agni said that you're a publisher?"

"A representative, yes, and we're always looking around for new talent," Mr. Barton replied, setting down his briefcase as he sat across from J.J. "If you have a sample of your writing, I would love to take a look at it, even if it's something incomplete."

"Oh… well, you caught me in the middle of writing a new story, actually," J.J. said, swallowing hard to try and get rid of the lump in his throat. He turned his laptop around and scrolled to the top of the document, allowing Mr. Barton to look through it.

J.J. and Agni sat in silence as the publisher took his time reading what J.J. had written. J.J. nervously munched his fries while trying to avoid looking at Agni, who was trying to catch his eye. Part of his unease was due to his nerves about having his work assessed, but there was another layer behind it. Mr. Barton seemed to already be familiar with him, which had him worried. He just hoped his hunch about who Mr. Barton worked for was wrong.

"Interesting," Mr. Barton said finally, looking up as he finished the first chapter, and he sat back as J.J. took the laptop back, swallowing the lump in his throat. "The concept is an original one, I'll grant you that. The style… it's a bit plain, but you clearly have some good ideas. If we polish the dialogue a bit, we might be able to work something out. Provided that you're open to a bit of criticism and allow for our editors to make necessary changes to allow for better structure and sentence flow."

"I'm open to small changes, yes," J.J. said hesitantly, trying not to sound ungrateful, but there was an edge to his voice. Agni seemed to notice it as well, and he gave J.J. a frown.

"Still… I must say, you do look eerily familiar, young man," Mr. Barton pressed, and J.J. felt his pulse quicken as the man peered at him.

"I don't think we've met," J.J. asserted.

"Mm… well, in any case, here's my card," Mr. Barton said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a business card, which J.J. took. As soon as he saw the company name, however, his eyes widened, and he slowly looked up from the card, swallowing again.

"Oh… thank you for your time, Mr. Barton, but I'm afraid that I'm not willing to do business with your company," J.J. said bluntly. Both Agni and the agent stared at him in disbelief.

"J.J.! Mr. Barton went out of his way to come all the way out here!" Agni said, quickly glancing between them. "He doesn't mean-"

"Wait, _that's_ where I've seen you before!" Mr. Barton said suddenly. "Your picture is on the desk of Ms. Penn-!"

"We're done here," J.J. said suddenly, pushing himself up and grabbing his laptop as he did, moving to hurry out the door. "Like I said, thank you for your time-"

"Ms. Penn has been looking for you for months, you know," Mr. Barton said suddenly. J.J. froze where he stood, every muscle in his body taut. "She told us to tell you, if we were to find you, that her offer to publish anything you write is still open, provided that you're open to a little editing."

J.J. slowly turned around, a muscle in his cheek twitching. Slowly, he stalked towards the agent, until he was standing less than a foot from the older man. J.J. drew himself to his full height, towering over the agent. Mr. Barton recoiled in confusion at the enraged look J.J. wore.

"I will never let that… woman lay a finger on anything I write. I wouldn't even let her edit a postcard with my signature on it," J.J. said in a low voice dripping with hostility. He was aware of the shocked looks of the patrons of the bar around him, but he didn't care. "If she were to show up at my house with a check for a ten million dollar publishing deal in her hand, I'd tear it up in front of her and slam the door in her face. I don't want your business, Mr. Barton, and I'd appreciate it if you'd show yourself out."

Mr. Barton sputtered while Agni stared at J.J. in shock. The agent reached out and grabbed J.J. by the arm.

"Now wait just one moment, young man!" Mr. Barton pleaded. "We were specifically told that if we found you, we were to get you in contact with Ms. Penn! You can't-"

J.J. wrenched his arm out of the older man's grasp and was about ready to throw a punch when a large shadow fell over both of them. J.J. and Mr. Barton stopped to look up at the imposing figure of Gary standing over them, his arms folded across his broad chest.

"Sir, you are a guest in my tavern," Gary addressed Mr. Barton a polite but firm tone. "And as such, I will not have you harassing my patrons, especially one of my regulars. See yourself out the door, or I will throw you out myself."

Mr. Barton was about to protest further, but seeing the hostile looks from the other patrons, he coughed and straightened his suit, shooting J.J. one last dirty look before walking out the door in a huff. J.J. slowly flexed his hand, trying to calm down, until Gary's large arm wrapped around his neck and he was pulled into a sudden headlock.

"And you!" Gary boomed as J.J. gagged and struggled against the larger man's grasp. "You know better than to start stirring up trouble in my tavern! What's gotten into you, huh?"

"Ack! Get off!" J.J. choked, only managing to wriggle free of Gary once the larger man released his hold. J.J. rubbed his neck, looking up at Gary with an apologetic look. "Right, yeah… sorry," he said sincerely. "I didn't mean to go off like that."

"I'll forgive it since this is a first-time offense," Gary warned him, swatting J.J. upside the head. "Don't let it happen again. Even if it's you, I don't need people starting fights in my bar."

"I'm sorry!" Agni said quickly, walking over to J.J. with an embarrassed look. "I didn't mean to upset you! If I'd have known you had a past with their company-!"

"Oh, no, I'm not upset with you!" J.J. said quickly, holding up his hands to calm Agni, who looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. "Thank you for going out on a limb for me like that and trying to set me up! Honestly, I'm touched. I've just had… very bad experiences with Penn Publishers. But you couldn't have known that. I'm not mad at you, trust me."

"Yeah, well… sorry again," Agni muttered, looking at the floor. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened between you and them?"

"It's not something I'd like to get into," J.J. said firmly, trying to cut off that line of conversation. "It's an old scar that I try not to pick at is all."

"You want me to set up a meeting with a different company?" Agni offered.

"I appreciate the offer, really," J.J. said with a smile. "But you don't have to go out of your way for me. This isn't even on the record, is it?" When Agni nodded reluctantly, J.J. grinned at him. "Then I'd rather hire you properly, instead of treating this as a favor. Tell you what, though. Gary, you were planning a group trip to the fair later, right? Mind if we invite Agni along?"

"Don't see why not. If he's a friend of yours, we'd love to have him," Gary replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"Ah… sure, I'd like that," Agni replied, smiling slightly. "Thanks. But as for getting you a publishing deal-"

"Come on, enough!" J.J. said with a wry grin. "I have to write a book before we talk about that! For now, go home and get changed! You can't go to the fair looking like you're about to attend your daughter's wedding!" Before Agni could protest, J.J. was pushing him lightly towards the door, hoping to deter any further conversation about his writing for the rest of the day.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, the sky had turned dark grey, and the clouds overhead occasionally rumbled threateningly, but thankfully no rain fell as the regulars from Gary's tavern wandered down the street towards the city fair. J.J. found himself in a group with Agni, Ryan, and Abby, while Gwen walked beside him as the trio of former Diemons swapped stories with each other, thankfully far enough away from the other members of the group that they couldn't be overheard.

"You really tried to burn down your office?" Ryan asked, an awestruck expression of admiration on his face.

"Yeah… I'm not really proud of it," Agni replied with an uncomfortable look. He had changed into a loose maroon sweatshirt and khakis, which was the first time J.J. had seen him in casual clothing.

"Are you kidding?! That's awesome!" Ryan exclaimed. "Next time I'm taking a test, do you think you could show up and set the basketball courts on fire or something so I can get out of it?"

"You're such a little kid," Abby sighed. Ryan turned and glared at her.

"You're only like three years older than me, so don't act all high and mighty, Miss Queen of the Night," Ryan snapped back.

"Four years, child," Abby said imperiously, unruffled by Ryan's outburst. "There's a gulf of maturity between us as wide as the Atlantic Ocean."

"Which is why, before we left, you were in the corner giggling to yourself about that actor in that stupid vampire movie that's coming out," Ryan shot back.

"That's Zachary Fournier, and the movie is _The Wolves of Westhaven_! It's one of Cynthia Fawning's best books, and the casting is perfect!" Abby protested, her voice a touch more shrill than she clearly meant for it to be.

"Yeah, totally, it's the _book_ you're interested in," Ryan smirked.

"You are such a brat!" Abby shrieked, chasing after Ryan, who ran off ahead, laughing. Agni gave J.J. and Gwen a sidelong glance when he noticed both were wearing amused expressions.

"So… those two are former Diemons as well?" Agni asked skeptically. "They're… energetic."

"Which is a good thing," J.J. replied. "To me, it's a sign that they've moved past what made them willing to use D-formers in the first place. Or, at the very least, are coping with their issues better. Ryan still has bullies to deal with, and Abby still hasn't found anyone in town who shares more than a passing interest in her fandom, but they both seem happier. Plus, they can pick at each other instead now," J.J. said with a slight grin as he watched Abby chasing after Ryan, threatening him with a dull wooden stake. "And you seem to be doing better as well," he added with a sidelong glance at Agni.

"It's not all roses and sunshine, and there are still days when I have problems controlling my temper," Agni cautioned him, before faintly smiling. "But, yes, overall I'm doing much better. Anyways, enough about the past. We're here to have a good time, so let's focus on doing that."

"At least until it starts raining," Gwen added, casting a wary eye at the overcast sky as they approached the ticketing gate for the fair. The grounds were set up with several tents lining the narrow paths near the entrance, each filled with vendors trying to sell home-made goods like preserves, handicrafts, and artwork. To the west of the little market were a number of food trucks and stalls, while the remainder of the fairground was taken up by attractions like local singers, demonstrations, and a few amusement park rides. Gary's regulars made it through the ticketing line with no issues, and ten minutes later they were walking down a narrow path between the vendors.

"I wanna hit the rides!" Ryan announced immediately, drawing a couple of laughs from his older companions.

"We can do that, though I'm hungry right now, honestly," Agni said, eyeing the food trucks. "Anyone else want to get something?"

"I'll join you for that, Agni," Gary said. "I've been meaning to sample what the competition has to offer anyways."

"Competition?" J.J. asked in a slightly worried tone.

"I'm not being put out of business, don't worry!" Gary said placatingly as he saw J.J.'s look of concern. "But there's an annual cooking competition later this year, and I want to get a leg up on what the other vendors are making before I decide what I want to enter."

"You do that. In the meantime, I intend to browse the art gallery," Abby said, having regained her composure enough to resume her usual mystical tone of voice. J.J. saw Ryan stick his tongue out at her, and he noted that she was still breathing heavily from chasing him. This time, though, she ignored him and wandered off to look through the tents in the marketplace.

"And what do you want to do?" Gwen asked, looking up at J.J. The writer chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, considering his options.

"Honestly? It sounds more fun to just wander around, see if anything in particular catches our eye. I'm not feeling the rides right now, and I'm not all that hungry. Though if there's something you want to buy, I'll be happy to get it for you."

"You're sweet," Gwen smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around one of his and lightly clinging to him. J.J. felt a thrill run through his body, and he smiled back at her faintly as they began wandering through the tents, occasionally stopping in to paw at some of the wares. J.J. was particularly drawn to a set of designer pens, while Gwen was intrigued by a leather bag with a swirling pattern on it. In the end, though, they didn't buy anything, and as they left the market square, they found themselves making their way towards a stage.

"You know… you've changed a bit," Gwen commented, glancing up to peer at J.J.'s face, who responded by looking down at her with a surprised expression.

"How so?" he asked.

"You're carrying yourself differently. You seem to be more self-confident. I mean, you were never exactly timid, but you always seemed to hunch over a bit, almost like you were afraid to stand up straight. Now you're walking with your head a little higher," she explained.

"I hadn't noticed," J.J. admitted.

"I like it," Gwen added with an impish grin. J.J. felt his ears flush with heat, and he grinned back at her mischievously. Before he could respond, though, a garish figure began approaching them from near one of the tents, drawing their attention.

The man striding towards them was dressed like a harlequin, wearing a tight one-piece outfit decorated with a multicolored diamond-shaped pattern. His upturned shoes had gold bells at the tips, as did his downturned, pointed hat. A wooden sword hung from his belt, tucked into it without a sheath, and the bronze buckle itself was shaped like a diamond. His face was obscured by a bronze comedy mask, hiding his identity. The man almost seemed to be skipping towards them, and as he drew closer, J.J. felt chills run up his body as high-pitched, hysterical laughter filled the air.

"Oooh, what have we here?" the man cackled. As he drew close, he began to saunter around them, stroking the chin of his mask. "A white-haired princess and her protector? No, this 'protector' is merely a boy. It can't protect anything yet, now can it?"

"Ah… can we… help you?" J.J. asked uncomfortably, eyeing the jester with a quirked brow. Beside him, he felt Gwen's hands squeeze his arm even more tightly.

"I hate clowns," she whispered.

"Aww, the princess doesn't seem to like us very much, does she?" the jester mocked her. He put his face close to hers, tilting it back and forth as she tried to hide behind J.J.'s lean form. "Does the maiden fair fear the fool who frolics at the fair?"

"We're not tipping you for this performance," J.J. quipped, backing away from the clown. In response, the jester raised his head and fixed his eyes on J.J. instead.

"Oh, it puts on a brave face, wearing a mask of humor like us!" the jester commented, still circling around them. "Yet it wears a smirk, not a smile. Or a sneer? A scowl, perhaps, when faced with what it fears? Yet it does not show its true face, any more than we do, does it? Tell us, what is its favorite mask?"

J.J. felt himself shivering as the jester's face loomed in his vision, his body uncomfortably close. He felt Gwen's grip on his arm tighten as the jester stared at him, before pulling back suddenly, holding something up. J.J.'s eyes widened in surprise and horror as he saw the jester had pickpocketed his diary.

"Give that back!" J.J. snapped, snatching for the book, but the clown giggled and danced backwards, opening the book up and flipping idly through the pages.

"Perhaps we can find its mask here? Oooh, it seems this one is an artist!" the jester squealed, turning the pages slowly while swaying out of J.J.'s reach as the writer kept grabbing for him. "Look at all the scary monsters it's drawn! It even describes them! Is it not bright enough to simply remember what a monster can and cannot do? What a fool it must be if it cannot understand that an orc would be strong!"

J.J. felt his ears getting red as he shook off Gwen's arm, growling as he reached out and grabbed the clown's arm. The jester calmly stood still as J.J. yanked the diary out of the his hand, though J.J. got the impression that it was only because the jester allowed him to take it.

"Awww, it takes itself so seriously! Though it wears many masks, do the masks slip when it loses composure? Is its true face merely anger? So very boring if that's so," the jester sighed in disappointment, shaking his head and folding his arms. "It should learn to have some fun! Ah, this fool has a suggestion! It likes art, does it not? Then it should visit that tent," the clown said, pointing towards a stall near the end of the row.

"…Dare I ask why?" J.J. growled, stuffing his diary back into his jeans as Gwen grabbed his arm again for comfort.

"We know not. Dare it? It is the only one that can dare!" the jester laughed hysterically. "It values art, so it should watch a master handle his tools! And by viewing the master's art, perhaps it will find its temper cooled! Then perhaps it will return to enjoy the japes of this fool!" The jester cackled again and strutted away from them, nimbly diving into the crowd and disappearing from view.

"…What the hell was that about?" J.J. asked rhetorically. Beside him, he could feel Gwen shaking as she gripped his arm, tightly enough that it was almost hurting. "Are you alright?" he added softly, gently nudging her.

"I _really_ hate clowns," Gwen shivered, staring into the crowd where the jester had disappeared. "I have ever since I was young."

"It's alright," J.J. said, pulling her a bit closer into a light hug as he felt her trembling start to stop. "At least he's gone now."

"Yeah… yeah," she muttered, burying her face in his chest for a moment before taking a deep breath and pulling back to look up at him. "Anyways, I am curious about what's so special about that tent. Shall we?"

"Not sure if we should take advice from someone that creepy, but it's not like we're doing anything else," J.J. said with a wry smile down at her. Gwen let out a short laugh and took his hand, pulling him towards the indicated tent.

As they peered inside, they saw that a small crowd was gathered in a semi-circle around a young man standing in front of a block of ice, diligently working it with a hammer and chisel. Surrounding him were gorgeous ice sculptures, some of the most realistic J.J. had ever seen. In particular, he was fascinated by a sculpture of a bear, two young women, and an elaborate sculpture of a winged heart surrounded by two ascending waves of water. From the way the artist was chiseling at the ice, he was apparently making a third sculpture of one of the young women in the front.

"These are good," Gwen commented, peering at the bear statue. "He's got some talent for this."

"Stay away from that, miss," the young man said, glancing up. The artist in question was a Caucasian man in his early twenties with brown eyes and a bald head covered by a navy blue bandana. He nodded to the bear statue and added, "I don't like anyone touching my work. It makes it melt faster, and I like to keep them up for as long as I can."

"Then why not sculpt with another material?" J.J. pointed out. "Clay or marble would last forever, you know."

"Because I like the challenge of finishing a sculpture before the ice melts," the young man replied shortly. "Now stop distracting me," he added, pausing to gaze intently at a young woman in the front row for a few seconds. He then resumed chipping away at the ice, pausing to run his hand over the face to smooth out some of the features with the heat of his palm. J.J. noticed that he wasn't wearing gloves as he did this.

"Isn't that cold?" he murmured to Gwen under his breath.

"Mm… his hands are probably made of leather by now, if he constantly does that," Gwen pointed out. "I'm more impressed by how quickly he's finishing that sculpture."

They watched quietly for five more minutes as the sculptor continued working, smoothing out the details in the face and the hair with his bare hands. Finally, he stepped away from it, revealing the woman's torso, standing demurely with her hands folded, her hair seeming to be in mid-wave while she smiled at the crowd. The audience let out a collective murmur of awe and began applauding while the artist smirked and bowed, before pulling his bandana off of his hands and wiping them off.

"That'll be three hundred dollars," he announced. J.J.'s eyes widened at the exorbitant price, but the auburn-haired young woman stepped forward, handing him her credit card, which he ran through a touchpad device.

"Three hundred dollars?!" J.J. whispered to the woman, staring at her. "For a sculpture that you can't even take home, and that's going to melt in an hour?!"

"Well… yeah, but look at how beautiful it is," the woman shrugged. "No one's ever made me look that gorgeous before. It's worth the price."

"Must be nice to have that much disposable income," J.J. muttered as the woman took her credit card back and wandered off. The crowd likewise began to disperse, leaving the center of the tent clear for J.J. and Gwen to approach the young man.

"These sculptures are impressive," J.J. commented, keeping his hands in his pockets to avoid upsetting the young man. "What's your name?"

"Peter," the artist said, holding out his hand for J.J. to shake, which the writer took. J.J. winced, shivering as he felt how cold the man's palm was, and he quickly let go of the sculptor's hand, shaking it. J.J. examined his palm and noticed that it had already turned red, as if he'd been holding an ice cube for several minutes.

"J.J. Pleasure to meet you," J.J. replied, taking a moment to breathe on his hand to warm it up. "So, how long have you been doing this?"

"Not long," Peter replied evasively, looking at the sculpture of the young lady he'd just completed. "It's something that I only started pursuing seriously recently."

"Really? With your talent? These are so lifelike," Gwen said, walking slowly around the bear statue.

"Well, my father was a sculptor, but I never really had much interest. He was good, but he never brought in much money," Peter said.

"Which is why you're charging people so much?" J.J. asked, unable to keep the disapproval out of his voice.

"Hey, don't judge me! I have to eat!" the sculptor snapped. "You probably don't know what it's like to have to live off of your art."

"Struggling writer right here," J.J. replied curtly. "I know exactly what it's like. Until recently, I couldn't even afford my own apartment."

"Oh," Peter said, deflating for a moment before rounding on him anew. "Then you of all people should know how hard it is to make a living at this!"

"Fine, fine, take it easy," J.J. said, holding up his hands. "I'm just saying, it's a little weird that you're charging so much just at a local fair. I could understand if you were trying to win sculpting competition or something, but three hundred dollars for an ice sculpture at a fair just seems a bit pricey is all."

"I didn't hold a gun to their head and say they had to pay for it," Peter pointed out, glaring at J.J. "I told them I'd sculpt them if they paid, and they agreed. Nothing illegal about that."

"Alright, alright, sorry," J.J. said, slightly taken aback by the man's hostility. "Do you mind if I ask you to commission a sculpture as well?"

"Of who?" the young man huffed.

"Gwen here?" J.J. asked, putting his hands on Gwen's shoulders. The blond-haired girl looked up at him, her eyes widening in surprise.

"You don't have to-!" she protested, but J.J. smiled down at her.

"It's fine. I want to see how well he can capture your beauty," J.J. purred to her, before grinning down at her mischievously. She swatted at him, unable to keep her cheeks from flushing.

"You two are going to make me sick," Peter snarled. "Fine. Five hundred dollars," he added. "Because you ticked me off."

"Are you _trying_ to drive away business?" J.J. countered, smirking. "If you're starving like you say you are, you can't be chasing away customers like that. One hundred dollars."

"Look, let's cut to the chase. I'll give you the same deal I gave that other lady. Three hundred," Peter said. J.J. nodded, and Peter hefted a new block of ice out of a cooler, grunting. J.J. noticed once again that he wasn't wearing gloves.

"Aren't you cold?" J.J. asked, finding that he was growing increasingly suspicious.

"You get used to it. Are you done pestering me so I can work?" Peter snapped. J.J. held up his hands again, standing back as the sculptor got to work, starting to rub down the ice with his palms.

"You said that you didn't start sculpting until recently, but your technique suggests otherwise," Gwen said after a while of watching him chisel at some of the ice. "Why didn't you pick it up until now?"

"Because I didn't think I'd be good enough at it to make any money," Peter sighed.

"So what changed your mind?" J.J. asked, starting to feel his stomach sink as he suspected he knew the answer.

"If you must know, I was approached by this guy in black-" Peter began. J.J. and Gwen traded looks, and J.J. immediately slipped his hand into his pocket for his diary.

"He was wearing a mask, and he gave you a piece of paper and a crystal that he said would let you sculpt well enough to make a living at it, right?" J.J. interrupted, narrowing his eyes. Peter's own eyes widened as he looked back and forth between the pair suspiciously.

"Yeah… how did you know that?" Peter asked, starting to back away from the half-finished sculpture.

"We're familiar with this sort of thing," J.J. said. "What does that crystal do?"

"It… lets me mold ice as I please," Peter muttered, starting to back away slowly. "Why're you accusing me? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Then why're you acting like you did?" J.J. pointed out. He could feel anger rising in him. "Be honest, do you even know how to sculpt, or are you just using the D-former to make the sculptures while _pretending_ you know how to?"

"What does it matter?" Peter shot back, slipping his own hand into his pocket, where J.J. suspected he had his D-former. "If I'm giving people what they want, what does it matter how I did it?"

"Because you're a fraud!" J.J. shouted suddenlyi. "You didn't bother taking the time to learn the skills that'd let you be a good sculptor, which is spitting in the face of every sculptor that did! What's worse, you have the audacity to _charge_ people for these… fakes! You're basically printing them a copy of the Mona Lisa and claiming it's the real thing! Is that all sculpting is to you? Just a way to make money?!"

"J.J., calm down," Gwen whispered. "You're gonna upset him, and we'll have a Diemon on our hands."

"Honestly, right now, I'd welcome that," J.J. hissed. "I'd love an excuse to beat this guy down."

"What's gotten into you?" Gwen murmured. Before they could say anything else to each other however, Peter gripped the D-former even more tightly, and was engulfed in a flash of bluish-white light.

"I'm not going to stand here and let you talk down to me like that!" Peter yelled as his body began to mutate. "You've got no right to look down on my work! It's the what I make that matters, not the method I used to make it! And if you don't like it… well, there are ways to deal with critics!"

As the light faded, ice began to creep up Peter's body, forming an irregular coating as it spread across him. His body began to grow as well, though it stopped before he reached the same height as Dr. Newman's minotaur form. His body became boxy and bulky, and his face seemed to be carved with holes for a mouth and a pair of sunken eyes, almost resembling the faces of the Shards. When he finished growing, he took a swing at J.J. and Gwen, the former of which grabbed the latter and dove out of the way with her.

"Great, J.J., perfect! You couldn't have just… I dunno, tackled him and grabbed the D-former before he could use it?!" Gwen snapped at him as she climbed to her feet.

J.J. ignored her, pulling his diary out of his jeans and holding it up to his left cheek as he knelt in front of the ice monster. "Gwen, do me a favor and step back! Henshin!" he shouted as he snapped the book shut while his Driver appeared around his waist. Once Gwen had backed out of the tent, he slotted the book and spun the central D-former, stepping closer to Peter as he did so, a vicious smirk on his lips.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** the driver shouted before trumpets played. J.J. was surrounded by the familiar amber crystal as it began to spin around him and his body was garbed in his leather armor. The spinning die expanded to the point where it connected with Peter's frozen body, sending him flying backwards and entangling him in the tent, just as J.J. had hoped it would. Peter let out a roar of fury as he tried to disentangle himself from the cloth tent as J.J.'s quill flew into his hand and he clicked the bottom to extend it out into its sword form.

While Peter was lying on the ground, still struggling to get himself free, J.J. took advantage of his helpless state to slash at his prone form repeatedly with deep, wild slashes that left jagged gashes in his icy carapace. He was able to press his attack for a good thirty seconds before Peter finally managed to tear the remnants of the tent off of him. His heavy fist swung at J.J.'s unprotected side, and J.J. let out a loud grunt of pain as he was thrown twenty feet to the side, landing heavily on the grass and rolling to break his momentum before skidding to a crouching position. As he watched, he saw that the slashes he had left in Peter's icy body were already beginning to close. Above him, he heard an ominous rumble of thunder.

J.J. quickly pulled his diary off his belt and flipped it open while Peter struggled to his feet. With the pause in combat, he flipped to his own stats page to check the damage he'd taken. Thankfully, the blow had been glancing, and he had plenty of his own health left, so maybe Peter wasn't as strong as he'd first feared.

A moment later, he heard a scream behind him, and he glanced behind him to see a woman hurrying off with her child. The scream attracted more attention, and people both began rushing towards the scene and fleeing from it. Those that stayed recognized J.J.'s transformed state and began pointing and cheering.

"That's Kamen Rider Page!" "Beat that monster down!" "You've got this, Page!" he heard people yell.

"Idiots! Why would you run _towards_ a fight like this?" he growled to himself. He saw Agni, Ryan, and Abby near the front of the crowd, the trio watching him beside Gwen. "Guys, get the people out of here!" he shouted to them. A roar of fury, however, drew his attention back to the fight at hand, and he jumped backwards just as Peter's icy fist slammed into the ground in front of him.

"Not very fast. Good," J.J. muttered under his breath, putting his hand on his black D-former and giving it a quick spin.

 **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** the Driver shouted, the sound of chimes filling the air as he was enveloped in an opal-colored crystal. When it dissipated, he was wearing his black mage garb, and he gave his staff a quick twirl before pointing it at the Diemon.

Drawing on the anger he'd been feeling for the last ten minutes, he had no problems conjuring a stream of flame, which immediately began to burn away at the monster's icy shell. It didn't take a genius to figure out the element this Diemon would be weak to, after all. Peter began to lumber away from him as quickly as he could, but J.J. kept pressing forward, keeping far enough away that Peter couldn't swing at him, but close enough that he could press his fiery attack on Peter. As his outer shell began to melt, a smirk spread across J.J.'s lips.

Suddenly, he suddenly felt his ankle tugged out from under him, and he fell to the ground, the flame sputtering out. Sitting up a bit, his eyes widened with fear as he saw that he'd been grabbed by one of the ice sculptures Peter had made, specifically the young woman he'd sculpted before Gwen. What made it particularly disturbing was the fact that Peter had only sculpted the upper half of its body, so it had crawled on the ground towards J.J. to grab him and pull him down. It began to drag itself up his body, icy fingers digging into his suit, its mouth opening to reveal jagged, icy teeth that would sink into his body. Out of reflex, J.J. bashed it across the face with his staff, knocking it off of him as he climbed to his feet. Before it could recover, he torched it with a quick burst of flame, leaving a puddle on the wet grass.

J.J. quickly turned around, scanning the area, and saw the ice bear charging towards him, mouth open in a silent roar. J.J. tightened his grip on his staff and loosed a fireball at it, impacting the charging bear and taking out one of its forepaws. The bear collapsed, rolling along the ground, and J.J. loosed another burst of flame at it, melting it as well. While he was distracted, however, he felt a hammer blow on the back of his head, and he groaned in pain as he was sent to the ground. Before he could stand up again, a heavy fist slammed into his back, pinning him to the grass, and the wind was knocked out of him, though he managed to keep his hold on his weapon. He could hear Peter chuckling above him.

"I'm gonna break you for melting my work," Peter hissed to him, drawing his fist back. J.J. tightened his grip on his staff, however, and managed to angle it enough to loose a burst of flame directly into Peter's face. The Diemon let out a scream and staggered backwards, clutching his face as J.J. slowly rose to his feet.

"They look better as puddles of water," J.J. quipped at him, panting. "Though honestly, a bucket of ice cubes would be better art than those fake sculptures you made. At least that'd be real."

J.J. resumed the relentless attack on Peter, advancing on him once again with a constant stream of flame that sent the monster reeling. However, J.J. could feel his energy quickly running out, and he figured he may as well end the fight before he was too drained to continue. He stopped casting the fire for a moment and once again spun the black D-former on his belt while Peter struggled to stay on his feet, furiously swiping at the flames dancing on his frigid body.

 **"Critical!"** the belt shouted, and a black die surrounded J.J. again before it shrank and began spinning near the tip of his staff. J.J. felt energy collecting in that spot, and he gathered as much as he could while Peter struggled to pat the flames off of his icy body. When he finally looked up, J.J. unleashed the collected energy all at once. A series of fireballs flew out of the tip of J.J.'s staff, impacting with Peter's body with the force of cannonballs. The monster staggered backwards as each one slammed into him, and J.J. finished the barrage of eight fireballs with a final, larger fireball that connected with Peter's face. Peter fell to the ground, as J.J. sagged, panting and leaning on his staff.

To his surprise, however, Peter laid on the ground, groaning in pain, but still in his Diemon form. J.J. grunted and slowly straightened himself up, wondering if he hadn't hit Peter hard enough, or if he'd tried to use his Critical Attack too early. Peter sat up as J.J. pointed his staff at him. Both froze, however, as they were interrupted by a cackling laugh.

The jester from before was watching them, perched on a nearby trunk with his legs crossed and his head supported by his hand. "Oooh, it knows a few flashy tricks!" the jester mocked J.J. "But it's still flailing around without a true sense for its own power, or the power of its opponent, isn't it? It doesn't know when it's won, does it? Clearly it needs more training. Ah, and ending this show now would be boring. Let's keep it going!"

The jester stood up, but before he could do anything, J.J. let out a yell and resumed unleashing a torrent of flame at Peter, who screamed in pain. J.J. wasn't sure what the jester was about to do, but he had an instinctual realization that he needed to end the fight before anything else happened. However, the stream of flame he directed at Peter was far weaker than his previous blasts, and he could tell it wasn't doing nearly as much damage. Meanwhile, the jester pointed his finger at the sky, and a stream of blue lightning spread across the overhanging clouds. A moment later, a few drops of rain began falling, and then a steady downpour began.

J.J. kept pushing the attack, but he was already drained, and the rain was making the stream of fire weaker, before finally sputtering out completely as J.J. felt himself becoming completely exhausted. As he watched in horror, Peter's icy body began to reconstitute itself, and slowly he pushed himself up. J.J. leapt backwards just as Peter swung his fist at him, and he landed softly on the wet grass, panting. Peter, however, put both hands on the wet earth, and in an instant, the ground was frozen solid around J.J's ankles. The writer grunted as he tried to pull his legs free, but as Peter plodded towards him, he realized his efforts were futile. In a last-ditch effort, he put his hand on the spine of his diary again and spun the red D-former.

 **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** the Driver shouted, and J.J. was surrounded by a ruby crystal as war drums played. Peter drew his fist back just as the die dissipated, and J.J. brought his own hammer around to counter the blow. The head of his hammer impacted with Peter's fist, and the attacks collided with a deafening boom, sending both fighters reeling, each ending up on their backs. J.J.'s legs were forcibly pulled free and he skidded across the frozen ground, his arms shaking and numb, but otherwise unharmed.

"Oh-ho! It does have moments where it can think on its feet!" the jester applauded as J.J. laid on the ground, panting. "Ah, and the sculptor lost his chance to win. This will just be a brawl now, which is no fun. Come along, child!" the jester said, skipping across the frozen grass towards Peter's prone form. With one hand, he grabbed the Diemon by the back of the head, announcing to Peter, "If we keep this going, you'll be beaten too soon, and that jewel you were given will go to waste. You have so much more art to create before then, don't you?"

J.J. was too tired to do anything but watch in disbelief as the jester effortlessly dragged the ice monster away from the scene as though he was dragging a teddy bear across the icy ground. The pair disappeared shortly after they hit the nearby treeline, leaving J.J. lay his head back on ground, panting and struggling to slow his heart and catch his breath. His arms were still numb, his bruises were throbbing, and he felt as if he'd run several miles. This was the hardest fight he'd had in a while, he mused. He hadn't felt this beaten up since he'd first fought Ryan.

As he slowly climbed to his feet, the crowd began cheering, but their cheers were hollow in J.J.'s ears. That hadn't been a win; at best, it had been a draw. Plus, the jester continued to vex him. What was his game? He had to be working for the one creating Diemons, but what was their goal? And why did he seem more interested in the spectacle of J.J. fighting rather than seeing him defeated, if J.J. was actually a roadblock to whatever their goals were? Or was J.J. thinking too highly of himself by even assuming he was a thorn in their side?

J.J. was snapped out of his thoughts as Gwen, Agni, Ryan, and Abby ran towards him. Gwen was the first to reach him, a furious look on her face. She shoved him roughly, and J.J. was too exhausted to do anything but stumble back a few steps.

"What's gotten into you?!" she berated him, getting right in his masked face. J.J. looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "You could have resolved that without fighting! Since when do you think you can go around picking fights?!"

"Gwen, calm down," Agni said, putting his hands on her shoulders to pull her back. "I'm sure J.J. had his reasons."

"I do," J.J. said softly, turning to look back at Gwen. "But I don't feel like sharing them right now. What I want to do now is rest, study up on what that Peter guy can do, and figure out a way to beat him next time."

"Next time?!" Gwen repeated, grabbing J.J. by his collar. "There shouldn't _be_ a next time! You're way too eager to fight this guy! This isn't just about stopping a Diemon! You're taking something about him personally!"

"So what if I am?!" J.J. shot back, suddenly towering over her. Gwen flinched back, a look of fright on her face. "I've actually got a reason to fight this time! That should be a good thing, that I actually _want_ to keep people safe for a change, rather than just feeling obligated to do it because I have these powers!"

"Do you really want to keep people safe, though?" Abby pointed out softly, surprising J.J. "Or do you just want to beat someone that ticked you off?"

"And you feel obligated to help others?" Ryan asked as well. "So did you only save us because you felt obligated to, not because you wanted to help us?"

"I… what, no, that's not what I meant," J.J. stammered, but Ryan's hurt expression made the words die in his throat. He sighed, putting his hand over his face.

"Look… sorry, this guy in particular just really got to me. And I don't want to discuss it right now," J.J. said. "Right now, I just want to get out of here and think things over."

"Fine," Gwen said shortly, looking away from him. Before he could say anything else, she turned around and stormed off, her hair whipping behind her in the wind as the rain drenched her small figure.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Agni said, clasping J.J.'s red-suited shoulder. "Find a place to de-morph, then take the rest of the day off. I don't think you'll have to worry about a rematch at least until tomorrow. It takes time for a Diemon to get itself back into fighting shape after it's beaten down like you just did to that one. Trust me on that."

"Good," J.J. said shortly, gently pushing his way past the crowd of admirers trying to talk to him. He knew Gwen was right, that he needed to get his head on straight. However, this was a fight that he was taking personally, and he couldn't just remain calm. The best thing he could do was try and channel the fury he was feeling into finding a way to beat Peter and the jester, before his anger came back to bite him.


	11. Session 11

**Session 11**

"Is this all the information you can give me on the Diemon?" J.J. asked his diary shortly, drumming his fingers impatiently on the spine of the diary as he gazed at the golem's stats intently.

 _If you have any further questions, I may be able to assist,_ the quill scribbled quickly across the blank page beside the stats sheet. _However, if you are referring to the amount of raw data presented, I cannot offer any further insights. If you are attempting to devise battle plans, perhaps your comrade, Tristan, might be able to assist._

"You're right, but Tristan's been busy with something," J.J. replied with an irritated sigh. "Neither he nor Susumu showed up at the fair, and when I tried calling Susumu, he didn't pick up. Besides, I'm still ticked off, and I don't want to take my anger out on them."

 _Which is why you are not studying in the tavern as you usually do?_ the diary inquired.

J.J.'s lips tightened as sat up a bit more on his couch, gazing around his apartment. He had decided to stay home for the day, given his sour mood and the fact that he felt like brooding by himself for a bit. It was actually a nice change, having some privacy to himself, he thought to himself as he gazed around his place. Even though, he had to admit, it was rather small, and he did miss the space afforded him in the tavern. He was living in a studio apartment about the size of a large hotel room. A small kitchen was tucked away against one corner, where he had also set up a small round table and a trio of chairs. Beside that was a door leading to a bathroom with a shower and sink, and next to that door was a walk-in closet where he kept his clothes. His bed was set up under the only window in the apartment, which folded into a couch where he spent most of his time. Along the left wall across from the bathroom were two rows of bookshelves, as well as a large TV hanging on the wall, which he currently had flipped to the local news so that he could keep an eye out for any Diemon reports, though it was also muted so that he could concentrate. He kept his laptop beside his bed as well, within easy reach for when he wanted to laze around or get some writing done. The walls had a few posters and pictures hanging from them to add to the décor. Despite how small his place was, he liked it, finding it rather cozy. Plus, it was _his_ place, rather than just somewhere to sleep, as he'd been forced to do in Gary's back room when he had first arrived in Marville.

"I'm staying here partially because I don't want to snap at everyone. There's also the fact that I've been a bit careless lately about keeping a low profile with regards to fighting Diemons," J.J. added, resting his head back against the headrest of the couch. "I really shouldn't be studying out in the open like that, where anyone could look over my shoulder at what I'm doing."

 _Though it's not as if that has stopped you before,_ the diary pointed out.

"Anyways!" J.J. hissed sharply, growing steadily more annoyed with the diary. "This is everything you can tell me?"

 _Correct. As I said, I can answer any further questions you might have,_ his pen replied, before hovering over the book, as if waiting for him to ask.

J.J. nodded once, settling back against the couch as he stared at the picture of the golem. It had taken him a few tries to guess the correct monster. His first guess for an ice-using creature was a giant, but that had been rejected. On reflection, a creature even smaller than Dr. Newman's minotaur could hardly be called a giant. He'd also briefly considered a yeti, but had discarded that thought almost immediately, as Peter's form didn't have any hair. He'd come to the realization that it was a golem when he realized that it made sense for a sculptor to want his hand-crafted creations to come to life, just like in the ancient legend. While that golem had been made of clay, J.J. had simply figured that different artists used different materials, but a statue was still a statue, and thus a golem was still a golem. Thankfully, his assumption had been correct.

"…He's not as strong as I'd thought he was," J.J. remarked, gazing at the golem's strength score. "When I blocked his punch, I could have sworn he was on par with Warrior Class."

 _Bear in mind that you were on the brink of exhaustion at the time,_ his quill pointed out to him. _You were fighting with perhaps sixty percent of your base strength, at best. In your Warrior Class, you are significantly stronger than this Diemon, though by the same token, his speed outclasses yours._

"Well… Thief Class is faster and has higher attack, but it relies too heavily on agility for defense, and it can't take a hit," J.J. murmured, tapping the feather of the quill against his chin as he flipped between his own stats and those of Peter's golem form. "And with an ice monster, he could just freeze the ground like he did before. At worst, he'd trap me again and I'd have to plant my feet and fight anyways, and even at best, I'd be slipping on ice. I don't think I can use Thief for this fight."

 _Will you use Mage again, then?_ his diary asked. J.J. smiled briefly before answering. The diary really was a marvelous invention; he honestly appreciated having a sounding board for combat ideas, a function it served admirably despite its claims to the contrary. Though, he still wasn't sure whether the diary was actually sentient, or just an advanced alchemical bot responding to him.

"I don't think Mage is going to work this time," J.J. admitted with a sigh. "At least not for long stretches. Its stats are too similar to this golem's, so I don't have any significant edge physically, and his regeneration and ice-control abilities wound up draining me too much last time. Warrior, oddly, seems like my best bet. But… what worries me is the Critical."

 _Why?_

"Considering that the Power Attack Critical that Warrior Class uses concentrates all my strength into one shot, it's useful for if I need to deliver a single strong blow to a Diemon. The problem is that rapid regeneration, since if I don't hit him hard enough to knock him out in one blow, he'll just recover health, and if I use all my energy I'll be a sitting duck again. I doubt he'll let me make the same mistake twice, too, without capitalizing on it."

 _Perhaps, but that is no longer your only option,_ his quill replied. J.J. blinked, raising an eyebrow. The quill flipped through his diary and landed on a more recent page, underlining something that J.J. had overlooked. His eyes widened for a second, and then a slow grin spread across his face.

"Oh… now _that's_ an option," J.J. said with a malicious smirk. "I didn't realize I could do that. That might work, provided I don't waste too much energy before I try that."

 _It was unavailable to you until recently. While you cannot utilize new D-formers, that does not mean there are not other options available in combat as you continue to grow more comfortable with your armor,_ his quill explained.

"That's excellent… but what about that jester?" J.J. pointed out, his smirk fading as he looked up at the ceiling. "If he gets involved again, it's going to be a problem, especially if he can summon rain. I wonder if he also has other elemental abilities," J.J. mused. "That clown also seemed to know who I was, and odds are he's working for whoever is spreading the D-formers around. My question, though, is why he insisted on stopping the last fight before Peter could defeat me. Or why he didn't just attack me himself, if he was worried I might win instead," he added thoughtfully, before looking down at his quill. "Do you know anything about that jester?"

 _No data available. As with any opponent, I would require a sample before I can formulate an answer,_ his diary said.

"Mm. Can't ever be easy, can it?" J.J. muttered, still staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He sat up, surprised, and closed the diary, slipping it back into his pocket. As he walked towards the door, he tried to remember if he had ordered a package; that was the only reason he could think of that someone was knocking. He didn't tend to get many visitors.

Peeking through the peephole, he was surprised to see a small group of familiar faces crowded around his door. He unlocked the door and opened it, and was immediately greeted with the somber, hesitant smiles of Agni, Abby, Ryan, Tristan, Susumu, and Gwen. The last member of the group refused to meet his eyes as he looked at her, though, and he could swear she let out a little "hmph" when he fixed her with a stare.

"What's up?" J.J. asked evenly, ignoring Gwen's cold shoulder for the moment. "Everything okay?"

"We came to check up on you," Agni explained. "You seemed… off yesterday, and we got worried, so we wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I mean… I'm still annoyed about… well, everything," J.J. admitted. "But I'm also trying to figure out a strategy for the next time I have to square off against that Diemon, and I wanted some privacy for that. How'd you guys find this place anyways?" he added, glancing between them. "I don't recall giving out my address, since I see you guys at the tavern all the time anyways."

"We stopped by the library and asked where we could find you," Agni explained.

"Wait… you got my personal records from my work?!" J.J. asked sharply, a scowl crossing his face.

"Yes. You found my address that way," Abby pointed out.

J.J. opened his mouth, then closed it. "Fair enough," he finally said with a shrug. There was a moment of silence, and then he realized the group was staring at him. "You guys can come in if you want," he added, stepping aside to let them into the apartment. "Sorry there's not many places to sit, but feel free to use a chair or the edge of a table if you can find it."

The group filed inside the apartment, with Susumu easing himself into one of the chairs with a grunt as he took the weight off of his cane, while Tristan and Gwen took the remaining chairs. Ryan sat on the edge of his desk and Abby took the office chair beside it, while Agni remained standing against a wall with his arms folded. J.J. one again took a seat on the couch, chuckling nervously. "What is this, an intervention or something?" he quipped.

"Really, we just wanted to see how you're doing," Ryan replied. "You've been doing a ton lately, and we wanted to make sure you weren't wearing yourself out. Especially since you really seemed riled up about this Diemon yesterday. At least, that's what Gwen said."

J.J. shot a glance at Gwen, who looked away from him with another soft hmph. He scowled at her, as her snubbing him wasn't helping his mood, but he turned back to Ryan and assured him, "Don't worry about it. Just wasn't feeling well yesterday."

"Have you yet devised a strategy that will allow you to dispatch your foe?" Tristan asked.

"I think I've got one, yeah," J.J. said, unable to keep a vicious smirk off his face. "If he transforms again, I'll be more than ready to beat him down this time."

"There! That right there!" Gwen snapped suddenly, pointing at J.J., the other members of the group flinching in surprise. "That's exactly why I yelled at you yesterday! This isn't just about protecting people this time! You seem like you've got some sort of vendetta against this guy, like you want to pick a fight with him!"

"Even if I do, what business is that of yours?" J.J. countered, snarling at her.

"Because that's not who you are!" Gwen insisted, walking over to stand over him. "I've seen you get angry before, but you're not the type to start a fight! I don't like this side of you!"

"You're not the one wearing the suit, are you?" J.J. pointed out, standing up and towering over her with his own height. "You don't have any right to tell me what state of mind I should be in while I'm fighting!"

"Don't I?" Gwen replied. "You've got a lot of power in your hands, J.J. I've seen you perform feats of strength no one should be capable of. Up until now, you've only used it to protect people, and I've been fine with that. But what if you start abusing it? If you fight this battle in the state of mind of 'I want to beat up someone who made me angry', what's to stop you from doing that from now on? What's to keep you from using your power to get your way and oppress anyone who makes you upset?"

At that moment, J.J. understood her anger, and he slowly sat down on the couch, holding up his hands in defeat, his anger cooling. "I see," J.J. said, his tone much calmer. "Yeah, you've got a point, and I can see why you're worried. But that's not going to happen."

"Can you prove it?" Gwen pointed out. J.J. remained silent, looking down at the floor.

There was a long moment of silence before Susumu spoke up. "What is it about this guy that made you so angry anyways? Maybe if you told us, we'd understand where you're coming from," he suggested in a calm tone meant to defuse the situation.

"Does it have something to do with that publisher I brought in?" Agni added suddenly. "You seemed to be in a bad mood after that meeting. Is that it?"

J.J. looked up at him. "No. Well… yes, but… no. It's complicated."

"It's not as if any of us are doing anything else," Abby pointed out. "I at least love to hear a good tragic story, and it sounds like you have one."

"There's no vampires in this one," J.J. said drily.

"Even so," Abby insisted.

J.J. sighed, looking up at the ceiling while the others watched him quietly. He gathered his thoughts, trying to figure out how to tell the story, before finally looking down and looking at Agni. "Agni, that guy you brought in from the publishing company. Do you remember the name of that company?"

"Of course," Agni said. "Penn Publishers. They're one of the big names in the area."

"Right. Their founder and CEO is a rather famous author by the name of Kay Penn. Ms. Penn is my mother."

A hush settled over the group as they took a few moments to process J.J.'s admission, until finally Abby broke the silence. "Isn't she the author of the _Damon Moon_ series?"

"The very same," J.J. confirmed.

"Wasn't one of those made into a movie?" Susumu piped up.

"I mean… it failed miserably at the box office since it was nothing like the book, but yeah," J.J. chuckled softly.

"That's incredible!" Agni exclaimed.

"Wait… if her last name is Penn, how is she your mother?" Ryan pointed out. "Isn't your last name Wells?"

"My parents got divorced when I was ten," J.J. explained. "She went back to using her maiden name after the divorce, but I kept my father's name. Knowing what I know about her now, I'm not surprised my father wanted out of that marriage," he added bitterly.

"Ouch," Agni winced. "Sounds like you really don't like her. But regardless of your personal feelings about her, why wouldn't you let her publish your books for you? Especially since it sounds like she's begging you to talk to let her sponsor you."

"Well… it's complicated, but you guys aren't going to leave until I tell you, are you?" J.J. asked with a grimace. When he was met with a series of nods, he sighed. "Alright. Let me start by asking something. Ryan, look behind you at that certificate on the wall. What does that say?"

Ryan turned around and gazed at the picture frame J.J. was indicating. "Heatherbrook Preparatory School High School Diploma?" Ryan said hesitantly.

"Right," J.J. nodded. "That's my high school alma mater."

"Wait… that's one of the best prep schools in the country," Agni said, staring at J.J. "You're a graduate of that place?"

"I was actually fourth in my class," J.J. admitted with a touch of pride. "And the fact that I got in is just one indication of everything my mother did for me from the time I was very young."

"With a famous author for a mother, you must've been rich," Abby mused.

"Does this mark you as nobility?" Tristan asked hesitantly.

"Not quite, Tristan. Think of us as… merchant class, I suppose," J.J. said, trying to put it in medieval terms the knight would understand. "We weren't exactly rich, but we were certainly comfortable. More importantly, though, my mother had developed connections, and she used them to set me up with every opportunity she could. From an early age, I was put into prestigious schools in the hopes that I would follow in her footsteps, become a writer in my own right and take over her company."

"Oh, I see," Agni said, nodding sagely. "So you were forced into a profession you hate and came to resent your mother."

"No," J.J. replied bluntly, before chuckling at how taken aback Agni was. "Actually, I loved reading and writing from an early age. My mother never forced me into it, though she did encourage it. Rather, it was convenient for her that I enjoyed literature so much. By the time I was three, I was devouring Dr. Seuss books, and I could write the alphabet at the age of four. My mother saw that and put me in top-ranked schools from an early age. I was in prep schools all the way through high school."

"How much influence did your mother have on your grades?" Susumu asked warily. J.J. shot him a sidelong look.

"I'll admit that I wasn't allowed to fail," J.J. sighed, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them. "If I was having trouble in a class, a teacher would pull me aside and tutor me in private until I understood the lesson. I suspect they were… encouraged to give me a hand by the administration at the school."

"Sounds like you were treated like another rich kid given advantages the rest of us don't have," Ryan scoffed. "What're you complaining about? You had it easy."

J.J. glared at Ryan, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Agni and Susumu had similar expressions. "It wasn't as easy as you think, Ryan," J.J. snarled at him. "Yeah, don't get me wrong, I had a top-ranked education, but that comes with its own set of challenges. The work was a lot harder than anything kids in public schools have to deal with. Studying was our lives. We were given maybe an hour of free time per day aside from meals, and even on the weekends we were in class. The grading scales were also much harsher – a 95 only netted you a B – and if you failed an exam, your life was hell for the rest of the week as the teachers forced you to make up the work. You weren't allowed to do anything else until they were satisfied with your work."

"Okay, sorry!" Ryan protested, holding his hands up.

"It's fine," J.J. said, calming down and smiling at him. "And it's not as if I'm saying we were being tortured or that I suffered more than less privileged kids. I didn't have to deal with things some kids do, like a troubled home life or worrying about money. The challenges public school kids face compared to private school kids are no more or less valid, as each are difficult in their own ways. They're just different."

"So anyways, you graduated fourth in your class?" Susumu pressed him, trying to get J.J. back on track.

"Right, yeah, sorry," J.J. said, shaking his head and returning his focus to his story. "Anyways, after I graduated, I did four years in college to get a bachelor's degree in English, did fine. I was above a B average, but at that point, it didn't matter since I knew I would have a job after college, so for once I decided to take my time and relax. That's where I got into tabletop gaming, actually," he added with a wry grin at the group. "I loved making my own worlds and letting players walk through them. For me, it was like getting to live in one of my stories, rather than just writing them. I still think that it was the best thing for my career as a writer, since I was always interested in fantasy."

"What was your mother's genre?" Agni asked. "I've never read any of her books."

"She's more of a mystery and drama writer," J.J. said, his smile fading. "She always considered fantasy to be irredeemable fluff, basically kid's stuff compared to what she considered more 'dark and serious' works that had actual teeth." When the members of his gaming group gave him horrified or angry looks, he held up his hands defensively and added, "Her words, not mine! I was furious when she said that to me!"

"Was she annoyed that you wanted to be a fantasy writer, then?" Agni asked.

"Yes and no," J.J. sighed. "When I graduated college, I was immediately contracted by her publishing company and told that I could write whatever I wanted, so long as I published my books through them. In the meantime, they also wanted me to work in their office as a junior editor, so I could also draw a paycheck. Obviously, I was more than happy to accept, since I had advantages almost no one directly out of college had. I was given free reign to write my first story, allowed to live off the company while I worked, and was writing in the relative comfort of an office for eight hours a day until my first book got published."

"What was your first book?" Tristan asked. J.J. turned and smiled grimly at him.

"You'd find it now under the title of _The Witch-King of Sember_ , with the author credited as Jay Wells."

The members of the group exchanged confused looks about why the name was different, until Susumu's eyes suddenly lit up. "Is J.J. a pseudonym? A name used by authors that differs from their real name?"

"Bingo," J.J. said with a grim smile at Susumu. "My birth name was Jay Wells, but I refuse to go by that name anymore."

"Okay, that's weird," Ryan said. "Explain?"

"I published my first book about a year and a half out of college," J.J. said, a far-off look in his eyes as he hunched over and laced his fingers together in front of his mouth. "Of course it went through numerous drafts and revisions, but by the time I had satisfied the last editor to look at it, I felt confident that it'd be at least a decent book. However, before it hit store shelves, my mother insisted on looking through it personally, and as the president of the company, no one was going to deny her request."

J.J. sighed as he looked up at the ceiling. "I still remember sitting in her office as she browsed the first chapter. Her face… she didn't have any expression, so I couldn't tell if it was good or bad. When she finished, though, she simply looked at me and told me that she'd make me a big-name author if it was the last thing she did. I was thrilled when she said that, and I went home feeling ecstatic. The book hit shelves three months later, and it was an instant hit. It won a minor fantasy award, and the book made bestseller lists in a few newspapers and magazines, though never the New York Times or anything."

"So what was the problem?" Gwen asked softly, speaking up for the first time in a while. J.J. turned to face her with a sardonic smile."

"I decided to pick up a copy of my book from the store shelves a week after it was published, and I was horrified when I began reading through it. The story had been completely changed. Almost nothing of my original idea remained, aside from a couple of names and places that I'd come up with. The plot was unrecognizable from what I'd originally written. It had gone from a fantasy adventure about the travels of a magic-using prince, to a horror-drama about an inquisitor in a gaslight realm. Don't get me wrong, it was a good book. But it wasn't _my_ book.

"It took me about five pages before it dawned on me what had happened. The plot was very similar to a book that my mother had mentioned wanting to write about a year prior. She'd simply taken advantage of the fantasy setting of my book to write her own story, then slapped my name on it and called it my own. Essentially, my own mother had hijacked the first book I had ever written."

J.J. smiled bleakly at the others in the room. "Do you have any idea how that feels, having something you poured your soul into ripped from you and twisted into someone else's vision? Worse, that they masquerade as you, ensuring that you get all the credit for something you didn't even do? I hear a lot about how the current generations want everything given to them, to reap rewards without earning them. That exact scenario happened to me – I was given effusive praise and accolades for something I never did, never had any involvement in. I'd never felt so hollow, so empty, and so worthless as I did in that moment."

Once again, the group was quiet, but this time the silence seemed heavier, as if they were all trying to process J.J.'s story. After what seemed like several minutes, Gwen asked softly, "What was your mother's reasoning behind her actions?"

"Oh, don't think I didn't confront her as soon as I found out," J.J. said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice as that memory was dredged up. "I burst into her office the next morning and demanded to know why she'd hijacked my story. She just told me that, as it was, the story was too poor for them to publish, but that she still wanted me to have a solid footing in the literary world. Thus, she'd taken the liberty of rewriting it into something marketable for me, as if she was doing me a favor."

"Editors are supposed to modify the books they receive," Agni began. J.J. shot him a furious look in reply.

"Editors are supposed to criticize, point out errors, and offer advice on how to improve story structure. They're not supposed to completely rewrite your entire story for you behind your back and then print their own story with your name on it. What she did was completely out of line," J.J. snapped. Agni flinched away from the harsh response.

"So what'd you do about it?" Susumu asked calmly, trying to keep J.J. focused on the story.

"I left," J.J. said simply, sighing as he sank back into the couch. "I decided that if my mother was going to control my life, that I didn't want anything to do with her. In fact, when I looked back on it, I realized that throughout my entire life, she'd held my hand through everything. Whether it was setting me up with private education, enrolling me in her company straight out of college, or writing my book, she had done everything for me. There was not a single accomplishment in my life that I could truly claim was mine and mine alone. I was that spoiled kid that had everything handed to them from birth. I hated myself when I realized that. And I also realized that more than anything, what I wanted was to make my own way, without my mother hovering over my shoulder and doing everything for me. I couldn't do that working with her company, so at the end of the week, I packed a few belongings, withdrew some of my own earnings – as I felt I had at least earned my paycheck with editing – and left the city without telling her."

"Is that when you came to Marville?" Ryan asked.

"No," J.J. said. "The first place I went was actually a small city called Meteor Falls, out in the desert. I spent some time there writing a new book without any assistance from anyone else, living off my wages while I wrote. In six months, I had a draft, and I got it published independently. I just wanted to get it out the door and prove myself to my mother."

"Understandably," Abby piped up.

"However… the book flopped," J.J. sighed. "It barely sold enough copies to cover the cost of printing it, and the royalties I received were pitiful. The main criticisms were that the story was cliché and trite, and worse, the hero was as bland and uninteresting as it got, that everything coincidentally seemed to happen around him, and he never earned his victories, making them hollow. Thus, no one was interested enough to buy the book, based on its reviews. Worse, I was almost out of money. When I was at my lowest, an agent of my mother's company found me and made me the same offer that your agent did, Agni – I could return home, work for my mother, and submit myself to her critiques and revisions in exchange for comfort and security. I ignored him at first, but when he kept pestering me, I decided I needed to leave. I scraped together what little money I had and traveled until I was forced to stop for the night in another little city– Marville."

A rueful smile rested on J.J.'s face as he folded his hands behind his head. "With as little money as I had, I couldn't even afford an apartment, but luckily for me, the first place I stopped in town was Gary's tavern, in the hopes that I might at least ask him somewhere I could sleep. He was gracious enough to lend me his back room, and even gave me a job as a waiter until I could make my own way. I instantly fell in love with the town, and decided that I wanted to stay here, so I worked hard to scrape together enough money to provide for myself while I wrote a third book. This time, I did it under a pseudonym, J.J. I decided on that name because I wanted to remake myself – in essence, I wanted to become another Jay."

"That's clever," Susumu commented. "Yeah, I remember you bringing me your laptop that one time. You seemed much more… unstable then. You were almost manic."

"Thanks," J.J. said drily. "Anyways, my new book under my pseudonym wasn't much better, and it had the same problems – trite story, and a bland hero that didn't have anything interesting about him, that he didn't truly seem heroic and someone that the readers could root for. However, at least this time the world was interesting enough to hold people's attention, and I was able to earn enough in royalties to move out of Gary's tavern and into this place. Shortly after, I also got a slightly more lucrative job at the library, which is where I've been working since. And… you guys know the rest from there," J.J. sighed.

"That's… quite the story, page," Tristan said after several long moments of silence.

"I dunno if I could do what you did," Agni admitted. "To leave all that behind and try and make your own way in the world when everything was at your feet? That's got to be tough."

"Was everything at my feet, though?" J.J. pointed out. "If I did nothing to earn it, how could I lay claim to anything I had before I left? Rather, the way I see it, all that I had was what my mother graciously allowed me to have. None of it was actually mine."

"Fair point," Agni agreed.

"But what's that got to do with that sculptor?" Gwen asked, scowling at him.

J.J. was about to reply when he felt his diary suddenly start buzzing. He pulled it out of his jeans to confirm that it wasn't his phone, before he grabbed his remote and unmuted the TV, turning his attention to the local news. As he expected, there was already a breaking news report.

"…monster like the ones that have been terrorizing local residents over the past few weeks. This one appears to be an ice construct of some sort, and has been freezing local residents while claiming that it is making the most lifelike statues in the world. All citizens are encouraged to stay indoors and not provoke the creature while we await the arrival of police… and hopefully the local vigilante that residents have taken to calling Kamen Rider Page. Again, we bring you this report from the Marville Art Festival, going on in the downtown area-."

J.J. shut off the TV and pushed himself up, a grim look settling over his face. He turned to face Gwen, taking a moment to address her before he headed out.

"My personal problem with him is that I see him as a representation of everything I left behind," J.J. explained. "I see Peter as someone who took the easy way in pursuing his chosen craft. He didn't use any tools or personal ability to craft those sculptures; instead, he simply relied on his D-former to make them, before trying to cash in on what he'd made with his powers and calling it a day. Tell me, how is that any different from collecting royalties for a story someone else wrote for you? He doesn't have any pride as an artist; he just wants to have fame and fortune given to him without having to work for it. And that's why I can't stand him personally."

"Maybe you're right," Gwen said, standing up and walking over to J.J., staring him in the eye. "But I don't want you to fight him while holding a grudge. Like I said, it goes against what you've been doing."

"No… you're right," J.J. sighed. "But it's hard for me to just divorce my feelings from this." When Gwen continued to stare at him, he added, "I'll talk to him before I fight him this time. I don't think it'll work, but maybe I can talk him down and we won't have to fight. Will that work for you?"

"It'll have to," Gwen sighed, pushing him towards the door. "Get going, Page."

"Don't call me that," J.J. said with a smile, grabbing his jacket and jogging out the door to his bike. Within moments, he had mounted up and was riding quickly down the street towards the art festival, squinting in the bright, cloudless afternoon.

Along the way, he turned down a side street and glanced around to make sure no one was watching him. He pulled his diary out of his pocket quickly and shouted over the roar of the engine, "Henshin!"

His belt appeared around his waist, and with his left hand, he slotted his belt and gave the D-former a spin. **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted as a trumpet filled the air. He and the bike were surrounded by an amber die formation that spun around him, and his body was swiftly covered in his leather armor; his motorcycle helmet seemed to become his suit's helmet, so he had no need to take it off. As he appeared from the other side of the street, he was completely transformed, and he revved the engine of his bike to make it go faster, hurrying to the fairgrounds.

A few minutes later, he approached the grassy field where the art exhibits had been set up. Already he could make out the electric blue shapes of a couple Shards prowling around, occasionally attacking passerby who were fleeing from the ice golem in the center of the fairgrounds. To J.J.'s horror, he was freezing people in ice as they fled, while beside him the jester from before cackled and clapped with glee. J.J. narrowed his eyes, but forced himself to suppress his anger as he snapped his fingers. His quill flew into his hand, and he extended it out by clicking the bottom as he drove towards the Shards, deciding that he had to take them out first.

The rampaging, mindless beasts only became aware of J.J. as he rode by them, his sword flashing twice as he cut through two of the Shards effortlessly, reducing them to dust. Another Shard swung at him as he rode by, but with his enhanced reflexes, he was able to duck out of the way in time and avoid being clotheslined. He dropped the third and final Shard with a quick slash to his left, before pointing his bike towards Peter's icy form. The golem turned in time to see the brown blur that was J.J. reach down and strike his leg with a deep gash from his sword. The golem groaned out and dropped to one knee, while the jester watched him impassively as J.J. brought his bike to a halt and stepped off of it. He knew that if he stayed on too his bike long, Peter would just freeze the ground again, so he may as well start fighting on foot while he could.

"Oh, it's you," Peter said, slowly standing again as the ice began to close around the wound. "I was wondering when you might show up. You didn't like my previous work. Tell me, are these sculptures lifelike enough for you now?" he sneered, motioning to the half dozen people currently encased in ice. J.J. sighed, closing his sword down and holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

"Look, I'm just here to talk," J.J. said. "Let me ask you something. You said your father was a sculptor, right? What was his name?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the people encased in ice giving him frightened, pleading looks to save them, but he had to focus on Peter first, as he was the priority.

"Trevor," Peter replied, eyeing J.J. curiously. "Why does it matter?"

"Did he show you how to sculpt, or did you learn on your own?" J.J. continued, pressing him for information.

"Yeah… he taught me how to sculpt," Peter said, seeming confused by this line of questioning. "But it's not what I wanted to do."

"Really? Then tell me… why are you still sculpting?" J.J. pointed out.

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. "It… I mean, it's the only skill that my father taught me," Peter replied weakly.

"So, you're, what, twenty or so? In all that time, you didn't pick up any other skills?" J.J. pointed out, his arms folded over his chest. "You weren't good at anything else? When you went to school, you didn't get good grades in anything but sculpting?"

"I… what's your point?!" Peter snapped, getting flustered.

"My point is that I don't think you're sculpting because you were forced into it," J.J. said. "I think you're doing it because you honestly enjoy doing it. People don't keep doing the same thing that they hate, especially something that's not making them money. You said yourself that you can barely make ends meet. So why keep pursuing it instead of taking an office job or something?"

"…Because I do enjoy it," Peter admitted. The jester started glancing back and forth between them furtively.

"So do you enjoy cheating at something you love doing?" J.J. pressed him. "All these ice sculptures you've made… can you really call them yours? More importantly, would your father be proud of you for ignoring the process he taught you, to take a shortcut?"

"What does it matter?" Peter snapped at him. "It's just using another tool! Would you be getting on me if I used a chainsaw instead of a chisel?"

J.J. noticed out of the corner of his eye that the thin ice coating the nearest victim was dripping, starting to melt. Perhaps it was because it was warm out, or perhaps Peter's focus was eroding. Either way, if he could keep Peter talking…. "So then why do you sound so unsure?" J.J. asked him. "If you've truly done nothing wrong, you wouldn't be trying to justify it to yourself like this."

Peter hesitated again, looking down at the ground. He slowly looked up at J.J., who gazed at him impassively. "I-" Peter began.

"Oooh, it can play mind games too!" the jester cackled suddenly, snapping both men's attention towards the laughing figure. "Well done, getting inside Peter's head! It gets more and more fun! But come now, Peter, my friend, you cannot take its word seriously," the jester added with a smirk. "That crystal I gave you is just a tool, as you said. And look closely! It is a hypocrite in its own right. Preaching of the dangers of using our crystals, yet it sports one on its belt too and happily uses its powers!"

"Yeah… yeah!" Peter cried. J.J. hissed as the jester seemed to reinforce Peter's resolve against him. "You can't preach about using these things when you're using one too!"

"I'm not turning into a monster by using them!" J.J. pointed out.

"I don't want to hear it!" Peter snapped at him, crouching in a low, lumbering stance while the jester giggled beside him. "You've got no right to lecture me on anything, especially when you're doing the same thing I am!"

J.J. sighed. "Could you please listen to me? I'd really rather not have to fight you."

"Then just turn around and leave me to my work!" Peter snapped. "Otherwise, fight me! You lost to me last time anyways, so I'm not afraid of you!"

J.J. reluctantly snapped the bottom of his quill again, extending it out into his sword before giving it a little twirl in his hand to steady his nerves. "If that's how it has to be," he said softly. "Alea iacta est."

Peter let out a roar and extended his hand. Four-foot long spikes shot through the air towards J.J. like lances, who threw himself to the ground to avoid them. As soon as he hit the ground, he pushed himself up and leaped backwards. Peter had already knelt down and put his hands on the grass to freeze the ground, and J.J. was able to jump back in time as the ground where he was laying down became encased in ice.

J.J. began circling around the golem, daring him to keep throwing attacks. Peter obliged, unleashing an icy white mist that crept towards J.J.'s ankles. J.J. stepped back from it, but Peter took advantage of his off-balance state to suddenly throw an ice ball at him. J.J. grunted as it hit his chest with the force of a major leaguer's fastball, and he was sent sprawling backwards. As he looked down, he saw the ice creeping across his chest. Panicking slightly, he quickly slashed it off of his chest with his sword, and it landed on the ground, inert.

The ground began shaking and J.J. looked up to see Peter charging at him. J.J. swore under his breath and scooted away from the golem, before ducking under a fist and slashing his leg again. Before Peter could recover, he threw another strike at his arm, then skirted away and glanced over his shoulder at the wounded golem.

"You're too slow to hit me in melee," J.J. taunted him. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be a master of ice sculpting? What good is that power you were given if you're not going to use it?"

The wounds on the golem were already beginning to close as Peter snarled and responded by clapping his hands together. The icy shells surrounding the civilians suddenly began moving with the victims trapped inside. J.J. could see their eyes widen in fear, and they began screaming, but they were left helpless as their shells stalked towards J.J.

J.J. swore under his breath as he backed away from the shells, noting that they moved even more slowly than the golem. However, as he retreated to his left, the golem exhaled a stream of ice, creating a massive, frozen wall behind him, entrapping him with the civilians. J.J. hesitated; he was leery about attacking the civilians, as he wasn't sure of his own strength. Glancing down at his blade, he murmured, "Dull the edge."

Immediately, the blade's edge flattened, and he delivered a testing, mid-power blow to the stomach of one of the nearest figures. To his relief, the ice began to crack, and the victim's eyes widened with fear, but he appeared unharmed. J.J. ducked under a swipe of the controlled ice and hit the same spot one more time, causing the ice to shatter. The victim, a man in his forties, was shivering and his breath was misting, but he smiled gratefully at J.J. even though his legs were still trapped in ice. Thankfully, frostbite didn't seem to have set in yet.

Feeling a bit more confident now that he had broken one of the statues without incident, J.J. parried another strike and hit the next civilian with two more quick strikes that broke the ice surrounding her before he rolled out of the way of the remaining ice figures and then leapt over the ice wall to give himself a momentary break. Peter roared at him in frustration as J.J. pulled out his diary, quickly flipping to Peter's stats page.

As he expected, the golem's hit points were still at their maximum, but what brought a smile to his face was the bar beneath his health – a bar that indicated how much energy the golem had for casting spells. As he expected, it was down to less than half of its maximum, and unlike the hit points, it wasn't replenishing itself quickly. He had figured that Peter's abilities to control ice worked like Mage Class, and that there was a limit on how much magic he could use. He'd been using it freely, to heal his wounds, to cast spells, and to control his other golems. A bit more and he would be empty. J.J. just had to keep encouraging him to waste his energy.

J.J. leapt back over the wall again and twirled his sword, saying calmly, "You're looking a bit tired there, Peter."

Peter responded by throwing another ice ball at him, and this time J.J. was able to duck under it, though it was close. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he should switch to Thief Class for the increased speed, but he was worried about that class's low defense. He couldn't afford to take a hit. Adventurer Class was still working fine anyways.

"And that was slow," J.J. said, swaying backwards to avoid another ice spike. He glanced over at the clown and added, "Why aren't you helping him, though?" The clown's ability to summon storms was the only thing that was still worrying him, which was why he wasn't pressing the attack.

"Yeah, help me!" Peter said, looking at the jester. "You gave me an entire rainstorm to work with last time!"

"You said it yourself, you do not require my help to defeat this one," the clown shrugged. J.J., however, realized something, and he slowly grinned behind his helmet.

"Or… you _can't_ help him," J.J. said suddenly. "That's it, isn't it? You basically did the same thing as old magicians taking credit for an eclipse. It'd been threatening to rain all day, and you probably felt a raindrop and decided to take credit for the rain, to psyche me out. I bet that spell you cast was nothing but a light show!"

"That's quite the theory it has," the jester replied slowly. For both J.J. and Peter, though, that was as good as a confirmation. Peter's frozen eyes widened in alarm.

"I was banking on you helping me!" Peter cried. "Isn't that why you're here?!"

"We have helped you, Peter," the jester replied simply. "Did we not show you the best way to use your sculpting abilities? Why are you not using them?"

"Because you over-relied on someone untrustworthy," J.J. said, putting his hand on the red D-former. "I've made that mistake before too."

He spun the D-former, and a cry of **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** filled the air, along with the sound of war drums as J.J. was surrounded by a ruby die, which clad him in his Viking-like attire, his hammer slung over his shoulder. He began walking towards Peter, who flinched away from the approaching red figure. He held out his hand, and behind J.J., several new figures grew out of the ice, charging towards him. J.J. smiled to himself, figuring that this was the last of the Diemon's magic.

He turned around, swinging his hammer and immediately smashing through the first empty ice sculpture that approached him. He then gathered his strength and slowly brought his hammer around again to bash a second sculpture, but then he saw Peter lumbering towards him while he was distracted. He knew he didn't have the speed necessary to keep breaking statues before Peter reached him… though he did have one new option available to him. In the back of his mind, he figured this was as good a time as any to test out the new ability his diary had suggested.

Putting his right hand on the D-former, he spun the die the opposite direction of how he usually did, and there was a resounding shout of **"Critical!"** that filled the air. He was surrounded by a red die, repelling the encroaching sculptures. The die then coalesced not on the head of his hammer, but on the axe-like spike on the other side of the hammer's head. While he felt a familiar surge of strength in his muscles, his arms somehow felt more elastic, with less raw power concentrated in them, but greater flexibility.

Turning, he swung the spike-head of his hammer in a rapid arc, cleaving through one sculpture. He was able to gather his weapon to his shoulder far more quickly, and he quickly dispatched another statue, and then a third, before he turned to face Peter. Gathering his strength, he used the spike-head to slash through the golem's torso, leaving a far deeper gash on his chest than any his sword had produced. He then swung the hammer in a circle and did the same thing again, and again, striking him too rapidly for Peter to counter-attack. While the blows were not as fast as even his most basic strikes in Adventurer Class, they had nearly the power of his hammer blows, while mitigating most of the speed disadvantage. He was able to use this new Critical to deliver several powerful blows in rapid succession, dealing massive damage to multiple opponents… or one enemy that couldn't be felled by a single Power Attack, but might succumb to multiple attacks delivered in quick succession.

This was how J.J. could get around Peter's regenerative ice powers, by forcing him to use up his magic and then hit him with enough powerful blows that his regeneration couldn't keep up with them. Eventually the damage would pile up. In the back of his mind, he was grateful that he took Dr. Newman's minotaur page. While he could no longer assume new classes, his diary had suggested tying the other Diemon pages to new abilities that were similar to his existing classes. Thus, the minotaur's rapid axe swings had been channeled into his Warrior Class, allowing him the new Critical based on the minotaur's abilities.

J.J. kept pushing his body, landing six hits on the golem's chest as it staggered backwards, groaning, while J.J. panted with fatigue. The gashes were not closing, to his relief, and he turned around, pulling his diary out of his belt and reverting to Adventurer Class as he did. However, to his shock, while the health bar had drained almost to zero, the golem's magic bar had just enough left that it was trying to regenerate its wounds. J.J. glanced over his shoulder as Peter picked himself up and roared, clearly ready to go another round.

J.J. snapped his sword down to its pen form and quickly asked his quill, "Do I have enough energy for one more Critical?"

The quill took a moment, then scribbled on the page, _"Barely."_

"Barely is good enough," J.J. said simply, snapping the diary shut and putting it back on his belt. He then put his hand on the amber D-former in the center of the diary and gave it a spin.

 **"Critical!"** the diary shouted, and he was surrounded by the amber die once again as J.J. felt strength gathering in his legs. He turned to face the golem with a steely look on his face, letting out a long, slow breath to steady himself before he got a running start and jumped into the air, starting to rotate rapidly in midair as the die surrounding him spun.

Peter looked up at him, and he let out another roar as he tried to throw a punch at J.J.'s descending form. However, the amber shield surrounding him knocked the attack aside, and left Peter open for J.J.'s attack. J.J. brought his leg around in a flying roundhouse kick, slamming it directly into one of the deep gashes still open on the golem's chest. The amber shield coalesced into a single triangular pane, and J.J. used his momentum to kick off of Peter's chest, landing on the grass with his back turned to the Diemon. Icy blue, glowing cracks began to spread across the golem's chest, and J.J. once again pulled out his diary to check the golem's health bar. As he saw it drain to zero, he let out a sigh of relief and snapped the diary shut as the golem's form disintegrated in a shower of light blue fractals. Peter let out a groan and slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Before J.J. could move, the jester suddenly sprang forward, grabbing the ice-blue D-former lying on the ground. He turned it over in his hand idly, before murmuring to himself, "This'll do." He then began giggling to himself softly.

J.J. turned and gripped his sword, suddenly dashing at the jester. He dove forward, the tip of his blade aimed at the side of the jester's bronze mask. As he attacked, the clown suddenly reached to his belt and pulled out his wooden sword. In a movement too fast for J.J. to follow, the clown knocked his blade aside and pressed the tip of the wooden sword against J.J.'s throat. J.J. froze in fear and shock as the jester's bronze face loomed in his vision, letting out a sinister chuckle quite unlike the unhinged laughter he had shown until now. "It should not start fights it cannot win," the jester said in a low voice.

J.J. found himself unable to move as the jester slowly pulled his sword away from J.J.'s neck. He walked over to the page that had been left on the ground and sneered at it, before nodding to J.J. "It may take that as its prize."

"Who… are you?" J.J. asked slowly.

"We? We are just the broken shell of a simple Fool," the jester giggled. "That is the name it may call us, if it wishes. For now, we have had our fun. Perhaps we can play again, Page." With that, the Fool bounced away, cackling with laughter, leaving J.J. speechless.

A groan to his left caught J.J.'s attention, and he saw Peter slowly starting to pick himself up. He glanced around at the broken sculptures, shaking his head and murmuring, "What… did I make these?"

"Sort of," J.J. said, hearing sirens in the distance. He clicked his sword's pommel, shrinking it back down to its quill size, and then walked over to the page lying on the ground and put it into his diary, where it merged with the bindings of the book. Looking at Peter, he shook his head sadly.

"You're going to be arrested for what you did, you know," J.J. said, nodding over to the people he had frozen in ice. All were shivering, and a few had red skin, but thankfully none seemed to have suffered any major damage like frostbite or hypothermia.

"I… did all this?" Peter asked in a daze. "I thought…."

Before he could continue, the first of the police cars arrived, and the officers stepped out, pointing their weapons at Peter, who threw his hands up and dropped to his knees on the ground, still seeming slightly bewildered. As the officers approached him, they gave J.J. an appreciative nod. J.J. returned the gesture, and before they could detain him, he walked over to his bike and mounted it. There were more than enough witnesses to give a statement, and by now there seemed to be a tacit order to let J.J. go on his way once he'd finished off a Diemon, allowing him some privacy.

As he mounted his bike, J.J. paused and looked over at Peter, calling out, "I hope you keep sculpting, if you do it the right way. That heart sculpture you made was really creative." He could swear he saw the shadow of a smile on Peter's face as he was led away in handcuffs, while J.J. turned around on the grass and sped off down the street.

* * *

"Nothing on the Fool, then?" J.J. muttered to his diary, once again at one of the tables in Gary's tavern. It was about two days later, and he'd spent one day recovering from his fight before deciding to investigate this newest threat. Gary had been rather perplexed by J.J.'s request for hot chocolate instead of his usual drinks, but he didn't say anything as he served it. The fact that he was on his third mug, though, was drawing a few curious looks.

 _I was given no data to work with from a blood sample, so no, I cannot provide any information,_ his diary explained patiently. J.J. nodded, glancing through the pages of his diary at all the other monsters he'd defeated, before running his hands over the D-former in the center cover.

"Which leaves me with several questions. Why does he want the D-formers if the pages are what provide someone their monster forms? He was clearly going after the jewel," J.J. murmured. "And is he a Diemon himself? If so, why would he chastise me for using a D-former if he's using one himself?"

 _The Fool appears to be a wild card in all of this, and appears to thrive on chaos and deception,_ the diary conjectured. _Do not read too deeply into his motives until you have more information._

"Which I would already have if you would just give it to me," J.J. snarled playfully. The quill batted at his nose in reply, before the door opened and the pen went limp.

For the second time that week, Agni walked into the tavern, wearing a suit, followed by an unfamiliar middle-aged woman with dyed blond hair and a sharp expression on her face. J.J. glanced at Agni and raised an eyebrow, immediately catching on to what he was doing.

"Are you going to propose to me already and ask me if you can be my agent? You keep throwing people at me, after all," J.J. teased him. Agni rolled his eyes as he took a seat across from J.J.

"I'm sorry about the last time I brought a publisher with me, but this time, I think you'll be willing to entertain this one. This is Ms. Theresa Chambers, representing Wormwood Books. You don't have a problem with them, do you?"

"Not at all," J.J. said, taking the lady's hand. Ms. Chambers nodded curtly to him, before stepping back and folding her arms over her chest.

"You understand my hesitance to look at your work, Mr. Wells," she said shortly. "Your prior work has been underwhelming. But I agreed to this request because I'm hoping that your skills as a writer have improved. If you have a copy of the first chapter of your work, I'd be willing to see it."

J.J. nodded, and he quickly leaned down under the table to grab his laptop out of his bag. He opened his manuscript, which he then pushed towards Ms. Chambers. J.J. and Agni traded nervous glances as she read his work silently, her face impassive. When she finally reached the end of the page, she looked up and shook her head.

"I'm afraid that your work is still mediocre. The world is impressive, as is the lore you've built up around it, but the main character is still flat and uninteresting. You haven't given me a reason to care about his journey, because I can't get inside his head. He seems to serve little purpose other than to drive the story; he's not a character in and of himself. I don't understand his goals, his motivations. Thus, I cannot recommend this draft to my superiors."

J.J.'s stomach fell, and he nodded once, looking down at the ground. "I see. That's… what I figured. Thank you for your honest opinion," he sighed.

Ms. Chambers gazed at him, and then her expression softened. "However… it is a vast improvement over your earlier work. Your writing has evolved, and while the characters are still bland, you do have a better grasp on description and detail. The fight scene you included was particularly impressive. It read like you've practiced swordplay yourself."

"Ah… I've dabbled a bit," J.J. admitted. Beside the publisher, Agni snickered.

"You're heading in a good direction. I would abandon this subject, though, and focus on another one, perhaps. One that you might have more personal experience with," Ms. Chambers suggested. "If you can make descriptive fight scenes like that, a book about a war in a fantasy setting might be a better story, as a suggestion."

"I'll consider it," J.J. nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Chambers."

The woman nodded and went to head to the bar for a glass of water, leaving the two men alone. J.J. sighed and slumped back in his seat.

"You alright?" Agni asked.

"Yeah," J.J. said. Despite the poor reception he received, he nevertheless felt surprisingly refreshed. "I'm glad I got someone's opinion on my work that wasn't colored by bias. Even if it's not what I wanted to hear, at least now I know where I stand, and what I can build off of." He smiled lightly at Agni, adding, "I suppose in a way, I'd rather fail on my own terms than succeed because someone offered me a handout."

"I can understand that," Agni nodded. "And I respect it. But that still leaves you without a proper story to work on, if this one isn't any good."

"Not necessarily," J.J. said. "I might have another project in mind that's a subject I'm more familiar with, like Ms. Chambers suggested. And before you ask, no, I'm not writing an autobiography about what's going on in town lately," he added quickly as Agni opened his mouth. "But… another event based off of that, which I think is a worthy story in its own right, and one that the world deserves to hear again. It's been lost to time for long enough, and I think Tristan would appreciate it."

"I see. Well, when you get something written, I'd love to hear about it," Agni said with a smile.

J.J. grinned back as Ms. Chambers walked past them, shooting Agni a look. "I'll be in the car," she said briskly. "You still owe me lunch, after all."

Agni smiled at her as she put her hand on his shoulder and walked past him. When he turned back around, he saw J.J. gaping at him. Agni shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

"I mean… I'm not with my wife anymore, and she's cute enough…" he stammered.

"You dog!" J.J. laughed, pushing Agni playfully towards the door. "Go on your date before she leaves without you! And thanks, Agni," he added with a sincere nod.

"Couldn't be here without you, J.J.," Agni replied with a grin as he was ushered out the door. "Now get writing!"  
"Aye aye," J.J. replied with a mock salute, before pulling out his laptop. He briefly considered deleting the story he'd written up to that point, but decided to keep it on the back burner to work on later. Instead, he took a deep breath, opened up a fresh, blank document, and then put his fingers on the keyboard and began typing furiously, transferring the words that bubbled up in his mind onto the page:

 _Long ago, at the very edge of the Atlantic Ocean, there lay a lonely kingdom by the name of Almencia…_


	12. Session 12

**Session 12**

"You know… I'm really getting tired of this supposedly all-knowing diary not providing any information about how my powers actually work," J.J. muttered, glowering down at his belt. "You'd think 'this is how you conjure ice' would have been included in the instruction manual for newly acquired powers."

It was mid-morning, and he, Tristan, Susumu, and Gwen were outside of Susumu's garage. The latter three were sitting in lawn chairs, watching J.J. with amused looks on their faces as he stood before them in his Mage Class, trying in vain to try to cast an ice spell at a dummy before him.

"They diary _did_ say that you can use ice now, right?" Gwen asked him, idly sipping her lemonade as she watched him. "Like, this isn't something that you assumed you could do?"

"No, after beating Peter, the diary spent four days loading up the new powers, and this morning it told me that I could cast ice spells," J.J. confirmed, giving his staff a little twirl to ease his frustration a bit. "The problem is that when I asked it _how_ I'm supposed to do that, it couldn't give me any information."

"Well, we _did_ have to figure out fire on our own," Susumu admitted. "To use that, you used anger, right? So wouldn't ice be the opposite of anger?"

"What would that be? Calm?" J.J. suggested. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind, and he pointed the staff at the dummy. When nothing happened, he tensed slightly, the way he did when casting his flame spells, but to no avail. "Yeah, that doesn't seem to be it."

"According to Quintus, magic is typically associated with energy," Tristan explained, leaning forward. "Would sorrow be an effective representation of cold energy?"

"Maybe, but I can't really think of anything that'd get me that upset," J.J. admitted. "My issues with my mother notwithstanding, my life hasn't been particularly tragic, honestly. I've never really lost anyone close to me."

"What about just trying to cast a flame spell? But thinking about it… cold?" Gwen suggested.

J.J. stared at her blankly. "Now you're just grasping at straws."

"Do you have a better idea?" Gwen pointed out.

J.J. blinked, then shrugged as he pointed his staff at the dummy again, closing his eyes. A moment later, he opened them, gritting his teeth and letting out a yell, envisioning a blue flame leaping from the tip of his weapon. Instead, as soon as he did this, a jet of very orange, very hot fire erupted from the end of his staff, incinerating the dummy. J.J. let out a yelp of surprise and dropped his staff, jumping backwards away from it and shaking out his hand, his heart racing with fright.

"Okay, _that_ is not the solution!" J.J. shouted as the other three burst out laughing. He rounded on them, glaring. "And that wasn't funny!"

"It was a little funny," Susumu chuckled.

"Do flames still inspire fear in you, page?" Tristan asked, stifling his laughter with one hand. "I had assumed you had conquered your fear."

"Of course they do!" J.J. snapped, walking over to the staff and picking it up off the ground. He dusted it off as he glowered at the trio. "Do you think if someone stands at the edge of a building one time, they're going to get over a fear of heights? I still don't like fire!"

"You seemed to be fine when you were using fire on that ice golem," Gwen pointed out.

"I was too angry with him to be worried about burning myself," J.J. said, taking deep breaths to try and slow his heartbeat. "Honestly, I was enjoying the thought of him melting too much to care."

"That is a poor mindset to have when fighting," Tristan said, suddenly turning deadly serious as he pushed himself up from the chair. "You must always be mindful of your surroundings, especially when your goal is to defend others. Carelessness on your part can prove far more dangerous to bystanders than any enemy you might face. You cannot control what your opponent will do, but you can, and must, control your own actions."

"You're right," J.J. agreed immediately, sliding his hand down to the belt buckle, where he ejected his main D-former, canceling his transformation. "I'll admit that I screwed up in my last fight. I got too emotional. I know that." He smiled over at Gwen and added, "And I'm glad that someone pointed that out to me." Gwen winked at him in return, smiling softly back at him.

"So long as you are aware," Tristan said, not pushing the issue any further. He then walked over to a fallen pipe and picked it up, checking its weight before pointing it at J.J. "Now then, if you are finished failing in your attempts to cast magic, let us duel for a little while. Your swordsmanship, at least, we know we can improve."

J.J. hesitated, looking over at the other two who were watching him. "Ah… right now?" he asked cautiously. Tristan raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you suggesting we neglect your training?" Tristan asked him coldly. "Has the burden of protecting your city become unpleasant?"

"It's not that!" J.J. exclaimed quickly. "I'm not complaining that the work is too hard or that I need a break. But I've spent the last three days riding around, fighting groups of Shards that've been hovering around the forest near the park. I swung by here to try out the ice powers, since the diary said they were finished. Once I was done here, though, I wanted to get some writing done on my novel, since I _have_ been neglecting that," J.J. explained.

Tristan sighed in exasperation before pinning J.J. with a firm look. "I do not wish to deter you from your other obligations, but I must insist that we engage in combat. I have not had a chance to evaluate you in several days, and I must ensure that you have not developed any poor habits in your swordsmanship. Now, come. I will not give any instruction; simply attempt to strike me."

J.J. sighed softly, but nodded as he held out his hand, his quill flying into his palm. J.J. snapped it into its blade form, the blade blunting itself without him needing to tell it to. He immediately dropped into his now-comfortable opening stance, angling himself so that his right side was facing Tristan, and his short blade was protecting most of his body. Tristan smiled at him, nodding once.

"Your form has improved," he commented.

"I had a good teacher," J.J. replied with a grin.

"Flattery will not deter me from training you, page," Tristan chuckled. "Fight."

J.J. slowly crept towards Tristan, tentatively holding his sword out. Tristan watched him patiently as J.J. suddenly stomped his front foot down, trying to make Tristan flinch. The knight, however, didn't budge. Following up on that, J.J. stabbed forward, aiming at Tristan's face, but at the last second pulled his blade back.

It was fortunate he did so; that tentative attack had resulted in an immediate counterattack from Tristan, which J.J. was able to parry to the side. He immediately responded with a quick slash, but Tristan swayed away from it, and the two retreated at the same time, resetting their stances.

"Good. You have become better about not over-committing to an attack," Tristan praised him. "However, your feint was too obvious. You indicated your intention with your eyes. You must improve your deception."

"Right," J.J. confirmed, not bothering to argue. The two duelists crept forward again. J.J. batted at Tristan's pipe as it came within range, testing his defenses. Tristan let him touch his blade, but casually reset his stance. J.J. tried to do it again, to see what Tristan would do, and this time Tristan suddenly turned his wrist, flicking the tip of the pipe at J.J.'s side. J.J. tried to sway away from it, but Tristan pressed the attack, earning J.J. a sharp blow on his shoulder, making him wince. Holding his arm, he walked away as Tristan shook his head.

"Too cautious, too much hesitation," Tristan said. "You were too focused on breaking my concentration, and you ended up breaking your own. Do not spend all your energy attempting to discern what your opponent is going to do, or you will paralyze yourself with indecision."

"Right, right, sorry," J.J. said ruefully, rotating his shoulder while taking a moment to think. Tristan kept pushing forward every time he feinted. So… what if he feinted a feint? He mused on that for a moment, wondering if he could pull it off. He would have to test something first.

"Come, page, your opponent isn't going to wa-!" Tristan began, but was caught off-guard when J.J. suddenly sprung at him with a vicious slash. Tristan caught his blade with a block, but was knocked back a step. J.J. moved to press the attack, but then changed his mind and stopped. Watching Tristan closely, he barely shifted his blade to the right. Tristan responded with a very slight shift towards that side. J.J. barely managed to keep the grin off his face; if he was going to pull this off, he couldn't betray any emotion, as Tristan had said before.

J.J. closed the distance again, feinting to the right with a testing stab. Instantly, Tristan moved towards him, hoping to take advantage of J.J.'s slower reflexes now that his guard was down. J.J., however, immediately shifted to the left, surprising Tristan, who was used to J.J. only fighting on a one-dimensional plane. He recovered quickly, turning to his left, but by that point J.J. had taken advantage of the narrow opening in his guard. He thrust his sword forward, slipping past Tristan's pipe, and as Tristan closed his arms around J.J.'s sword arm, J.J. turned his blade. The edge of it, though dulled, would have sliced through Tristan's right arm, and even blunted it still left a red mark on his skin. Tristan let out a sharp gasp of pain, his grip on his pipe loosening, and J.J. yanked his arm backwards. The pipe was torn from Tristan's grasp and sent flying behind J.J., landing with a clatter on the ground, while the tip of J.J.'s sword pointed at Tristan's throat. Both combatants froze in place. It was difficult to tell who was more shocked.

"I don't… what just happened?" J.J. asked, blinking in shock at the stance they found themselves in.

"That was… it was unusual, but that was an excellent maneuver, page," Tristan admitted, shaking his head in disbelief. "I cannot recall the last time I was disarmed like that."

"J.J., that was incredible!" Gwen shouted, running towards him and throwing her arms around his shoulders.

"It was a fluke," J.J. admitted, still seeming dazed.

"Fluke or not, that's not a move you could have pulled off even a few weeks ago," Susumu commented as he limped towards the group.

"Quite," Tristan agreed. "You have improved significantly, and in a fraction of the time it took my guards to achieve your prowess. That has little to do with talent, though," he added with a stern look. "So do not assume that your prowess is the result of some innate ability. Rather, it is because you have been constantly fighting in real battles, rather than sparring, over the past several weeks. There is no better teacher than having to fight for one's life… assuming you survive," he concluded grimly.

"Sorta like how the best teacher for learning a new language is to surround yourself with native speakers, mm?" J.J. said dryly. "Glad to know that risking my life constantly is paying off. I should throw myself into more fights. Maybe wander around with my sword on my shoulder, see who wants to challenge me."

"I would not advise that, page," Tristan frowned.

"I was being sarcastic, don't worry," J.J. assured him. "In this time period, wandering around with a sword could get you thrown in jail if you're not careful."

"Truly these are barbaric, uncultured times, then," Tristan said. "That said, well done. I'd even go so far as to say that you could perhaps be on par with one of the guards of Almencia."

"The royal guards?" J.J. asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"One of the regular guards," Tristan clarified. J.J.'s face fell. "However, I believe that you have reached the stage where I can no longer give you a proper challenge without fighting you whilst I am at a disadvantage. Therefore, from this point on, I will train you using my favored fighting style. Come… let us begin the next stage in your training," Tristan said, motioning for J.J. to follow him.

J.J. felt his stomach sinking, but Gwen walked over to them, interrupting the pair before Tristan could elaborate.

"You two are done for now," Gwen stated cheerfully, putting her hands on J.J.'s shoulders to stop him from following the knight.

"I would like to train him a bit more," Tristan insisted, narrowing his eyes at Gwen. "While that was a good maneuver, I do not want him to fall into the trap of preferring a stylish flourish over the basics I have trained him in."

"No danger of that happening," J.J. assured him. "I couldn't pull that move off again if I tried anyways."

"Still, I'd say J.J.'s earned a break for today, wouldn't you?" Susumu nudged Tristan. "He's proven that he can handle himself if another Diemon appears, I think. And you don't want him run ragged if another Diemon attack happens."

"Yes, please let him go!" Gwen nodded enthusiastically.

"Wait, what's got you so excited all of a sudden?" J.J. asked, suddenly turning to stare suspiciously at Gwen.

"You're going to take me on a date," Gwen said matter-of-factly.

The three men stared at her blankly before exchanging looks. "…When did I agree to that?" J.J. asked slowly.

"A couple weeks ago," Gwen said calmly. "Remember? I said that if I let you wander through my house, you have to take me out on a date."

"You were serious about that?" J.J. asked uncomfortably.

"Yep! And you don't get to back out of it!" Gwen told him smugly.

"But… I was going to work on my novel, and we still haven't finished training-!" J.J. protested, looking around at Susumu and Tristan, who were both grinning at him.

"Ah, actually, we have something we've been working on that we should probably get back to," Susumu said evasively, looking away from J.J. before giving him a sidelong glance and a wicked grin.

"What could you possibly be working on that's more important than helping me save the city?!" J.J. cried as Gwen began pulling on his arm.

"Classified," Susumu replied simply.

"I must concur. I am neither brave nor foolish enough to attempt to deter a lady who wishes to be courted. Tis your knightly duty to see to her demands, page," Tristan added as he folded his arms. Beside him, Susumu nodded sagely.

"I'm not a knight!" J.J. protested as Gwen began pulling on him a bit harder.

"Nor shall you ever be with that attitude! Go forth, noble page! Conquer this trial, and you shall be one step closer to attaining true honor and chivalry!" Tristan retorted with a malicious grin.

"You traitors! Save me!" J.J. screamed at them dramatically as Gwen dragged him away, the two other men laughing as he was led away from the garage.

* * *

"Can't believe they let me get roped into this," J.J. muttered under his breath forty minutes later. The two had stopped by supermarket to pick some things up, and to her credit, Gwen had paid, since J.J. was the one driving the bike. She had then pointed him in the direction she had wanted to go, and ten minutes after their shopping trip, they were walking across the park, with J.J. holding a large picnic basket under his arm.

"Is spending time with me really that bad for you?" Gwen asked him. Her voice was playful, and J.J. was about to retort with a snarky quip, but when he saw her looking genuinely apprehensive, he lightened up and smiled at her.

"Of course not," he assured her. "I actually appreciate you pulling me away from Tristan before he put me through phase two of his boot camp. And I do always love spending time with you, whether it's gaming or doing something like this," he said. Hesitantly, he reached out and lightly brushed his fingers through her platinum hair, which earned him a smile as she nuzzled into his hand. "Plus, it's nice to get a break from the Diemon crisis, at least for a little bit."

"You _have_ been rather busy lately. But at least you're not fighting monsters _every_ day," Gwen pointed out as they climbed a shallow hill, heading towards the treeline that led to the forest at the edge of the park.

"No, or else I'd have thrown my hands up by now and said that the world was doomed," J.J. quipped. When Gwen glared at him, he shook his head to reassure her that he was kidding. "But even when I have days off, I'm still spending them training, studying stats and abilities, or learning Almencian in case we run across any more runes that might give us more information. And that's not counting having to work at the library or writing my book. I'm not really complaining, mind you. I just haven't had a real break in weeks."

"Which is a shame, since we do all miss that campaign you've been running," Gwen added with a slight smile at him. "We still need to go after the princess, you know."

"Agh, don't remind me," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I still need to map that out, too. I'll see about doing that when I get back, and then-"

"J.J. Breathe," Gwen told him firmly, putting her hand on his back. "You don't have to worry about anything this afternoon. Right now, what I want you to do is relax and eat some lunch while enjoying the nice weather. Get your mind off Diemons and Almencia for a bit."

"…Thank you," J.J. sighed after a moment, flashing her a sheepish grin as they entered the forest. They walked along a narrow dirt path that led them through the trees, dead leaves carpeting the ground on either side of the trail. Sunlight trickled down through the branches above, bathing them in a dim golden light as they walked together silently, until finally Gwen touched J.J.'s arm and pointed out an empty spot next to one of the trees. J.J. nodded, and they began setting up their picnic under the tree.

"I'm surprised there aren't more people out here," J.J. commented, glancing around the woods. Off to their left was a mother sitting with her daughter, talking to her while she read a book, and in the distance he could hear a few teenagers yelling, but otherwise the forest seemed almost deserted. "I wonder if those Shards I've been catching in the area have been scaring people off."

"That's why I wanted to eat here rather than on the grass," Gwen replied, unfolding the blanket and laying it out under the tree. "That and the fact that it's been warm today, so I'd rather hang out in the shade."

"Just so long as I don't have to fight off bugs trying to steal my lunch," J.J. said, taking a seat on the blanket beside her. He reached into the basket and pulled out one of the sandwiches they had bought at the store.

"No promises on the bugs. I might try to, though," Gwen grinned at him. She began reaching across his body for the sandwich, and J.J. let out a cry, edging away from her as she crawled on top of him.

"No! Bad! This is my food! You get your own!" J.J. chided her playfully.

"Didn't your teachers ever tell you to share?" Gwen laughed, leaning over J.J. a bit more, pushing him backwards onto the blanket in the process. J.J. suddenly became very aware of how soft her body felt pressing into his own.

"Ah… Gwen?" J.J. asked hesitantly, feeling his ears start to burn. Gwen ignored him, however, as she leaned in and stole a bite of his sandwich before pushing herself off with a catlike smirk on her face.

"My sandwich now," she purred as she dusted herself off, chewing on the food. J.J. scowled at her and handed her the rest of the sandwich, trying to slow his heartbeat from the play-fight.

"Fine, I'll just eat yours instead," J.J. growled huffily, reaching into the basket for the other sandwich they had brought with them.

"Don't you hate ham?" Gwen pointed out with an impish grin.

"I can pick out the ham. I saw you buy ham and turkey," J.J. said with a smirk. "You were planning this, weren't you?"

"Not down to the last detail, but I figured it'd be cute if I pounced you," Gwen told him smugly. "Did it work?"

"No," J.J. said, unconvincingly.

"Your blush disagrees," Gwen teased, sticking her tongue out at him. J.J. responded by lightly swatting at her with one hand while bringing the sandwich to his mouth with the other.

Once they broke apart, J.J. sat with his back against the tree so that he didn't have to sit up straight as he ate. Gwen repositioned herself so that she was sitting beside him, and after a few moments, leaned against him so that her head was on his shoulder, her hair pressing into his cheek as they ate. J.J. didn't make a move to stop her, enjoying the soft weight of her body pressing against his. It'd been years since he'd last dated anyone, which was why he was still a bit hesitant around Gwen, since he was still unsure about how to act with her. He was worried he might do something wrong, or that he was misinterpreting her desire to want to be more than friends. For that matter, he wasn't sure why she'd suddenly become so interested in him. Was it because of his fights with the Diemons?

That thought made a knot form in his stomach, and he fought to suppress it. While he didn't think she was going after him just because he was playing hero now, it wasn't a thought that he could just shrug off. She'd always been friendly, but she'd only started clinging to him after their adventure in her mansion. Was it because she thought he was protecting her because he liked her? Worse, was she only attracted to him in his suited form?

He felt a nudging on his arm, and J.J. snapped out of his thoughts to see Gwen looking up at him curiously. "You alright? You were kinda staring off into space there."

"Yeah, sorry," J.J. said, shaking his head. He decided to stow those thoughts away for later. No point in ruining the good mood. "I'm just enjoying the peace and quiet. Thank you again for bringing me out this way."

"Is all this wearing on you?" Gwen asked softly. "Being a Kamen Rider, I mean?"

"I'm not a Kamen Rider," J.J. said automatically. "And I dunno if it's wearing on me. It's more like… how you get used to a job or something," he explained with a shrug. "Don't get me wrong, when I'm fighting a Diemon, I'm focused entirely on strategy. The rest of it, though? Following up on Shard attacks? Studying stats? Trying to learn how to use new powers? It's all become… almost routine. It's certainly not boring, but I feel like I'm becoming… numb to all of it," J.J. said softly.

Gwen gave him a concerned look and pressed a bit closer to him, hugging his arm. "Almost sounds like you're shell-shocked," she commented.

"I wouldn't go that far," J.J. said reassuringly, squeezing her hand gently. "Maybe I'm just overthinking it. Don't worry about it."

The pair sat in silence for a while until a rustling sound drew their attention. They both looked to their left to see a blond-haired girl of about fourteen approaching them with a shy smile. She was dressed in a fairly typical teenage outfit, consisting of a pink shirt with a logo under a jean vest, skinny jeans, and a set of bedazzled sneakers. She gave them a tentative wave as they stared at her curiously.

"Sorry to bother you!" the girl said quickly. "I was just hoping I could ask you a quick question."

"Ah… sure? What's up?" J.J. replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you Kamen Rider Page?" the girl asked bluntly. J.J.'s eyes widened in surprise.

"Where'd you get that idea?" J.J. asked her warily.

"I saw you when you fought that monster in the suburbs!" the girl said cheerfully. "I watched you put on the suit and everything! So, is it true?"

J.J. traded looks with Gwen, and then he smiled uncomfortably at the girl. "Eh… sorry, kid, but-"

"Yes, he is," Gwen said suddenly, cutting him off before he could continue. The girl's face split into a beaming grin. J.J. looked down at Gwen and raised an eyebrow, but was met with a level stare.

"What're you doing?" J.J. hissed to her. "I'm trying to keep a low profile!"

"You are not crushing her chance to meet her hero. Look at her face!" Gwen whispered back to him. "One person knowing what you look like under your helmet isn't going to do any harm! Just humor her!"

J.J. still felt uneasy, but when he looked up again, the girl was still looking at him expectantly. Finally, after a long moment, he sighed and said, "Alright, yep, I am."

The girl let out a cry of delight as she dropped to her knees beside them, spraying them with dead leaves as she peered into his face.

"That's so cool!" she exclaimed. "That first fight you had was awesome! It was like you were dancing around that monster! I'm sorry, do you think you can show me the thing that you use to transform…?"

"What, you mean this?" J.J. asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his diary. He gripped it tightly, in case she decided to yank it out of his hand and run, but she instead simply nodded quickly and stared at him with wide eyes.

"That's the book!" she shouted gleefully. "That's what you use to capture the monsters, right?! And to put on your suit?!"

"Yeah," J.J. said slowly, motioning for the girl to sit beside them as he opened the diary. "This the monster you were talking about?" he asked, flipping over to Ryan's orc form.

"Yeah! I live four houses down from where that fight happened! It was amazing to watch! Though the construction workers were annoyed at the size of the pothole they had to fill in afterwards," the girl added as an afterthought, peering over his shoulder. "You keep drawings of all the monsters in there? Are there more?"

"Every one that I've beaten," J.J. said. Despite himself, he felt himself perking up from the girl's enthusiasm, and he began flipping through the pages and showing her the various Diemons. The girl listened to him raptly while Gwen smiled softly up at him. When he finished, the girl gave him an awestruck look.

"This is awesome!" she grinned at him.

"By the way, what's your name?" J.J. asked, closing the book and looking up at her.

"Oh! I'm Kelsie. Great to meet you! Also, I'd like to ask… can I maybe take a picture?"  
"Ah…" J.J. hesitated. Gwen nudged him, and he sighed.

"Alright, one picture," J.J. said, pinning her with a firm scowl. "But I better not see it online. If I'm browsing and I come across it with the hashtag, 'ZOMG jus hangin' w/KR Page lol!', I swear, I'm going to find you," he warned her.

"Promise! I won't post it!" Kelsie agreed, scooting closer to him as she pulled out her phone. J.J. looked up at the phone with her and gave a slight smile while she beamed at the camera and pressed the button.

"Cool?" J.J. asked as he leaned back against the tree again, still not entirely sure how to deal with this girl.

"Yeah! Sorry to bother you! I'll let you get back to your lunch," Kelsie said, but she was interrupted as a group of teenagers ran past them, laughing maliciously as they were chased by a young woman in a tan outfit, who was gasping for breath.

"And here I was just commenting on how quiet it was," J.J. muttered to Gwen, who nodded in agreement, a similarly annoyed look on her face.

"Just… give back… those seeds!" the woman demanded between pants. The trio of teenage boys, however, danced out of her reach as she tried to lunge for them, tossing the packet of seeds between each other.

"What're these, daffodils? Daisies" one of the boys sneered as he looked at the packet. "Isn't that just cute? Does the little flower girl wanna make the forest all pretty? How about I help?" He sneered as he tore open the packet, turning it sideways to spill the seeds out onto the ground.

"No, don't!" the girl cried, diving at the boy, who tossed the packet over her head to one of his friends. A couple of seeds spilled out, but most of them remained in the pouch.

"Yeah, Tony, she's right! She was just yelling at us about littering!" another boy smirked at her, rattling the seeds around in front of her. "So, lady, you shouldn't throw things on the ground either, right? Including these seeds! Fair's fair, isn't it? So you're not getting these seeds back!"

"I just… want the forest… clean!" the woman protested, as the boy swerved out of her reach. "Just please… don't throw your trash… on the ground! We have trash cans!"

"Man, screw this preachy tree-hugger!" the third boy snarled. "What's next? You gonna tell us to save the whales? That only we can prevent forest fires? Maybe I'll start one right now," he said, walking over to a patch of dry leaves and pulling out a lighter. The woman's eyes widened as the boy began to flick the spark threateningly against the ground.

"Please stop!" she shrieked.

J.J. suddenly became aware of a pair of eyes on him, and he glanced over to see Kelsie staring at him expectantly.

"Nuh-uh," J.J. said firmly.

"Oh come on!" Kelsie whined. "Aren't you supposed to put a stop to this sort of thing?"

"Fighting Diemons is one thing," J.J. explained. "That's something that normal people can't deal with, so I'm willing to step in. However, I'm not the police. I'm not a hall monitor. I can't just attack random people because they're being jerks. That's an abuse of my powers."

"But they're standing right in front of you!" Kelsie cried.

"She has a point, you know," Gwen murmured to him. "No one's saying you have to beat them down. Just put a stop to this, please? So we can get back to eating lunch?"

"…Alright, fine. But I just want to talk to them," J.J. said firmly to the girl. "I want to avoid a fight if I can, so don't expect to see me transforming to toss around a few punks. Understand?"

"Sure," Kelsie agreed, nodding enthusiastically. J.J. reluctantly disentangled himself from Gwen, suppressing a sigh. _So much for time off_ , he thought to himself as he walked towards where the boys were playing keep-away with the seeds. As they flew towards the boy nearest to him, J.J. took a quick step forward and snatched them out of midair in front of the kid who was about to catch them.

"Hey!" the kid protested, shoving J.J. backwards, though J.J. managed to keep his balance. Gwen walked over to him and took the seeds before retreating towards the tree, while Kelsie watched with a wide grin. "You got a problem with us, man?" the kid asked, pushing J.J. again. J.J. took a deep breath, trying to keep calm as he looked the teenager in the eye. He noted that the stocky kid probably outweighed him by a good forty pounds of solid muscle.

"Not personally, no," J.J. said easily, taking a step back as the three boys moved to surround him instead. He quickly noted their positions, and he took another step back, putting his heel on a large branch laying on the ground. "I just wanna ask you to knock it off. We're trying to relax here."

"Oh, are we disturbing you?" one of the boys sneered at him. "Your little girlfriend over there getting mad at us making too much noise?"

"She's a cute one," another boy sneered. "Why don't you come with us instead, sweetie? We're way more fun than this guy."

Gwen ignored him, watching J.J. intently, who returned his gaze to the kid that seemed to be the leader. "I'm not looking for a fight," J.J. said. "I'm just asking you to clear out of here."

"Man, another jackass telling us what we can and can't do," the leader smirked at him. "You're not looking for a fight? What a little b-"

Before he could finish that sentence, one of his friends suddenly rushed J.J. from the right side. J.J. had been watching him out of the corner of his eye, expecting something like this, and he immediately grabbed the boy's arm as he approached. With a grunt, J.J. pivoted around the guy, using his momentum to throw the kid forward into his other friend. He then slipped his foot under the branch and kicked it into the air, where he grabbed it, gave it a little twirl, and dropped into his usual fighting stance. He didn't want to use his sword in this situation, but he did feel better having a weapon in his hand.

Seeing J.J. armed, and wisely noting how easily he had tossed his friends aside, the leader paused, before grinning and holding his hands up. "Whoa, hey, easy man," the kid said. "We've got the message. You don't want us causing trouble, we'll clear outta here. No need for this to turn into a fight. We're just having a little fun, right guys?"

His friends groaned as they picked themselves up, glaring at J.J., but at a stern look from the leader, they slowly nodded and began trudging off, making their way out of the woods. J.J. relaxed, dropping the branch, before turning his attention to the woman in tan.

"You alright, miss?" J.J. asked quietly as he walked towards her with his hand extended.

"You probably shouldn't have done that," the woman sighed, turning to look at J.J. with a raised eyebrow. "They've been causing trouble around here for days now. I've been having to chase them off from doing things like lighting trash cans on fire, blasting music, leaving trash all over the forest… and while they're not violent – thankfully – they're notorious pranksters who like to make people's lives hell, as you just saw. They're probably going to come after you next."

"Don't you have park security?" J.J. pointed out.

"Yeah, and this incident is enough for me to pull it on them. Thanks for trying to help, anyway," the woman said with a faint smile. "What was your name?"

"J.J.," the writer replied with a nod of his head.

"Irene," she replied, glancing over as the girls approached. Gwen handed her the seeds, then smiled up at J.J.

"Good boy," she told him, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully.

"Not really. I'm lucky they didn't want to fight," J.J. said, frowning at her. "I don't relish the thought of getting stabbed by a hidden switchblade or something."

"Still, that was sweet! The way you tossed that guy aside was just…!" Kelsie enthused.

"Like I said, I'm not proud of that," J.J. said firmly. "I don't like to fight if I don't have to."

"I appreciate that mindset," Irene praised him. "It's always better to find a peaceful solution if you can. Even if those three have gotten… frustrating lately. They've been ruining all my hard work around here, and I'm getting tired of it."

"Your hard work?" Gwen asked.

"I'm the conservationist in charge of this forest," Irene explained, resting her hands on her hips. "I'm in charge of keeping the area clean and safe for anyone who wants to visit it. It's just a little volunteer work, but I enjoy it."

"That's admirable," J.J. said. "I don't know many people who would volunteer to do something like that."

"To be fair, the park does pay me a little," Irene admitted with a short laugh. "But mostly, I just wanted to keep this place as pristine as I can. I started coming to this park when I was a little girl, and I always used to love running around the woods. When I got older, I got a degree in environmental science. I spent some time protesting and marching, but I later had a personal epiphany that made me want to be more hands-on. I came back here after college and saw that the forest was in rough shape – litter everywhere, weeds and vines growing over the paths, and most people just avoiding the woods entirely. I wondered how we were supposed to save the planet if we couldn't even keep one little patch of forest clean. And then I realized that I was just as guilty as everyone else for not doing something about it. That's why I signed on to work here, so that I could do just a little to help save the Earth with my own two hands."

"…Wow," J.J. said, slightly stunned. "That's quite the perspective."

"The way I see it, there are billions of people on the planet, and one person can't save everything," Irene said with a slight smile. "But we can all do our own little bit to make the world a little better. That's the way I see it. Savoring the little victories is what keeps us going, because if we try to do everything all at once, we'd wind up crushed by the weight of our own ambition."

"That's… deep," J.J. admitted with a laugh. Kelsie nodded beside him, gazing at the woman with a look of respect.

"Thanks. Want to see something?" Irene offered. She motioned for the group to follow her through the woods, taking them on a winding back trail up a hill towards a secluded part of the forest. J.J. wouldn't even have been aware that the path was there if she hadn't pointed it out to them. The walk took about ten minutes, with Irene leading deeper into the forest, them until they came to a massive, ancient oak tree. The tree was wreathed with fresh flowers growing around it in a circle. Irene smiled as she knelt down and began digging into the earth with a trowel she'd had in her back pocket.

"This was my favorite spot to play when I was little," Irene explained to the other three. "This is the oldest known tree in the forest, said to have been first planted by the Marks family when they arrived here over two hundred years ago." J.J. shot a glance at Gwen, who smiled softly and held a finger to her lips. "I found it when I was about six or seven, and when started working here, I decided to make this one spot as pretty as I could, just for my own benefit."

"You've put a lot of work into this," J.J. commented with a soft smile, gazing at the flower garden around the tree.

"Yes, quite a bit. Thankfully, it's gotten a lot easier, especially in the last couple weeks," Irene said absently.

Something about the way she said that set of alarm bells in J.J.'s head, and his smile immediately faded. "Why, did you get extra help or something?" he asked cautiously.

"Sort of," Irene said, looking up at J.J. as she reached into her front pocket. She pulled out a green D-former, as well as a stats page, and J.J. immediately felt his heartrate pick up. "I was given these by a well-wisher after those punks dug up some trees I'd planted. Only thing I remember about him is that he was dressed in all black, and he told me that I could use these to make the plants grow faster and healthier. And he was right! It's almost like magic," she said.

"Yeah… I know," J.J. said cautiously, kneeling down beside her. "Irene, have you been paying attention to those monster attacks lately?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, they're all over the news," Irene said, nodding absently. "Why?"

"That jewel you have is what's making people turn into monsters," J.J. explained gently. Irene stopped, her eyes widening as she looked down at the D-former in her hand.

"Has it?" she asked softly. "I mean… when I use it, I do feel… different. I hadn't really paid much mind to it, but when I concentrate, all the plants seem to just… listen. It's almost like I can feel the rhythm of the earth or something, hear the pulse of the plants in the forest."

"Right, that's typical," J.J. said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. "But I can tell you from experience, you don't want to keep using that thing, or it'll make you like those monsters on the news."

"But I don't have any intention of using it to cause harm," Irene said softly, gazing at the D-former in her hand with a quizzical look.

"I know you don't," J.J. said with a placating smile. "No one I've run into does. But they inevitably do cause harm, to themselves and others, and I don't want to see that happen to you. I'm not saying you shouldn't protect the forest," he added encouragingly, keeping his tone light. "But this isn't the way to do it. The forest has been fine for years without needing magic to help it grow, and you did a wonderful job of protecting it before now, right?"

"I… suppose, yes," Irene admitted slowly. "But what if those boys come back?" she added, sounding distraught.

"That's why you have park security," J.J. pointed out. "And you said yourself that you'd prefer to find a peaceful solution to your problems, right? If you use that jewel, you'll be tempted to use it to take care of them. Violently. And you don't want that, do you?"

"…No," Irene said after several seconds of thought, looking up at J.J. slowly. "What do you suggest I do?"

"Just hand me your page?" J.J. asked, his heart racing. He could feel his palms sweating. If she refused his request….

Irene considered his offer for several long, tense moments, before she slowly nodded. She held out the paper, and J.J. let out a long, slow sigh as he gently took it from her. From behind him, he could hear Gwen exhale as well.

"Thank you, Irene," J.J. said with a smile, reaching into his pocket for his diary. Gwen peered over his shoulder as she walked up beside him.

"That's… the first time anyone has ever just given you their page, isn't it?" Gwen asked him softly as J.J. opened his book.

"Yeah… this is new," J.J. said softly. "Maybe the D-former corruption wasn't as deep because she had purely good intentions?"

"So did everyone else you fought," Gwen pointed out.

"We'll worry about the why later," J.J. said, balancing his book in one hand. "For now-"

Stars suddenly exploded in his eyes, and J.J. grunted as he fell face-down onto the ground. It took him a moment to blink the stars away, and he slowly brought his hand up to the back of his head, feeling a welt where a small rock had struck him. Behind him, he was aware of Gwen screaming at someone. Then J.J. became very aware of an intense heat near his face.

His pyrophobia immediately seized him, and J.J. scrambled backwards with a frightened yell as he realized the dead leaves near his face were burning. Belatedly, he grabbed his diary off the ground as he retreated, trying to control his urge to panic. Once he had fled about twenty feet away, he turned around to see the boys from before laughing and holding aerosol cans up to lighters, creating makeshift flamethrowers that were dousing the leaves around the massive oak tree in flames. The tree hadn't burned yet, as the soil around it was still wet, but it was only a matter of time before the fire spread.

"What're you doing?!" J.J. screamed at them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Irene standing stock-still, her face pale as she gazed at the flames. Slowly, she walked forward and picked up the loose page J.J. had left on the ground. J.J.'s eyes widened in fear as she clenched her hand tightly around green D-former.

"I'm sorry, J.J.," she said slowly, honest regret in her voice as she watched the flames moving to consume the tree. "But it's clear to me that I can't just protect the forest by myself. I need this power, or everything I love about it is going to be taken from me."

"Irene… please, don't!" J.J. pleaded with her.

Irene turned to give him a sad smile, before closing her eyes. A flash of emerald light consumed her, and J.J. squinted for a few moments, until the light subsided.

Irene's form hadn't changed drastically, as she still stood roughly the same height. However, her body was now covered in mossy bark, and her hair had become flower-filled vines that writhed behind her as if they were alive. Her hands ended in long, slender, branch-like claws, and her eyes had become glowing green emeralds that slowly fixated on the leader of the boys before her.

Irene reached out her hand, and vines sprang out of the ground. They swept the burning leaves away, beating the fires out, before grabbing the leader of the boys around the ankle. The boy looked down in shock, and let out a scream of terror as he was hoisted into the air and held upside-down in front of Irene, who smirked at him maliciously. Behind her, the two other boys pointed their aerosol cans at her and held up their lighters, but the tree above them seemed to come to life. Branches reached down and viciously smacked them both, sending them sprawling several feet away. Irene then turned her attention back to the boy in front of her as J.J. grabbed his diary.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" the boy stammered while Irene pointed her claws at his throat. "We were just playing! We won't bother you or the forest anymore!"

"No, you won't," Irene purred, her voice now low and sensual, dripping with venom. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"That's enough, Irene," J.J. called out firmly, drawing her attention towards him as he held his diary beside him. "You've made your point. And while it _is_ satisfying to see this twerp getting his comeuppance, any more than this is going too far. Let him go."

"But I haven't taught him anything about the true power of the forest, J.J.," Irene chortled. "You know, travelers get lost in the forest all the time. I'm sure no one is going to bother coming to look for them," she sneered at the boy, who began to scream in panic.

"Dammit, Irene. We were so close to not having to do this," J.J. murmured, opening his diary and holding it up near his cheek. "Henshin!" he cried out, his driver appearing around his waist as he did. Irene paused to look past the boy at J.J., who snapped the diary shut and slotted it into the belt, before spinning the amber D-former in the center.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** the driver shouted, the voice echoing through the trees while a trumpet played. An amber, holographic die surrounded J.J. and spun around him rapidly, kicking up dry leaves while his body became covered in leather armor. Once the spinning stopped, J.J.'s pen flew into his hand, but he didn't extend it out into its sword form.

"Last chance, Irene," J.J. warned her. "Please put him down."

"Once I'm done with him, absolutely," Irene agreed. A thorny vine grew out of the ground behind her, and the suspended boy let out a cry of pain as it lashed his backside, leaving a bloody mark.

"Alea iacta est, then," J.J. murmured. He clicked the pen, extending it into a sword, and he dashed forward. In two quick motions, he slashed through the vine striking the teenager, and then the vine holding him up. The kid fell heavily on the ground and scampered away, screaming, followed closely by his friends. J.J. dropped into a fencing stance before Irene, who gave him a bemused look.

"Oh, no wonder you were familiar with the monsters," Irene commented absently. "I was wondering what your connection to them was. So you're Page."

"Don't call me that, please," J.J. said firmly. "Now, will you please calm down? They're gone. There's no need for this to continue."

"But they'll be back," Irene pointed out. She slowly began to pace back and forth, holding her arms out as she looked up at the sky. "They always come back, and I doubt even punishing them will deter them. They'll make it into a game, seeing how much trouble they can cause before they get caught. And what about the others that harm this forest? Leaving their filth everywhere, tearing off tree branches, hunting the animals for fun… I can hear the plants, you know," she said suddenly, giving J.J. a sidelong look. "They're begging for a protector, someone to defend them, the same way you defend people from monsters. That's all I want to do, is to save these poor things that can't save themselves. No matter what measures I have to take."

"Then we're at an impasse," J.J. sighed. He suddenly darted towards Irene and stabbed forward with a quick thrust, his blade striking her in the chest. Irene let out a scream as a gash opened on her wooden skin, and J.J.'s blade was coated in a sticky sap-like substance. He followed it up with a rapid cut across her stomach, before Irene jumped back and snapped her fingers.

Vines grew out of the earth, and J.J. found his legs bound suddenly by the plants. He struggled against them as they raised him into the air, then slammed him into the ground, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him slightly dazed. However, when they raised him up again, he managed to twist his sword-arm, and he slashed the vines keeping him suspended. He hit the soft earth with a dull thud and grunted out, slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"This is so cool!" an excited voice rang out suddenly from behind him. J.J. looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened as he saw Kelsie standing out in the open, her mouth agape and her eyes shining like she was watching a wrestling match.

"Idiot!" J.J. roared at her. "It's too dangerous to be here! Run!" He glanced around for Gwen, but thankfully it looked like the white-haired girl had enough sense to clear the area once the fighting had started. Why was Kelsie here, then?! He immediately scrambled to his feet, pointing his sword at Irene, who folded her arms over her chest.

"Oh, don't worry, she hasn't done anything to the forest. I won't hurt her," Irene purred. "You, on the other hand, I'm going to torture," she added, glaring at J.J.

She held up her hand, and four long thorns appeared on the tops of her fingers, like foot-long wooden fingernails. They shot towards J.J. like arrows, and J.J. rolled out of the way, knocking one aside with the flat of his blade and sending it careening harmlessly into a tree. He knelt on the ground, his mind racing as he tried to figure out which form would be best for this situation.

She seemed to primarily be a ranged fighter, so unless he could get close with Warrior Class, its raw power wouldn't do him any good, as it was too slow. He briefly considered Mage Class, as fire was a natural enemy to anything wooden. However, as his finger rested on the black D-former, he recalled Tristan's warning to be aware of his surroundings. If he used fire in this forest, he was going to light the entire area ablaze, and worst case scenario, he would do little damage to Irene, and instead just enrage her more. That left just one option.

He slipped his hand over to the blue D-former and spun it. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his driver shouted as it encased him in a sapphire die, which began spinning around him rapidly while a saxophone filled the air. As the spinning stopped, he was once more wearing his blue jacket, the scarf around his neck fluttering behind him as he gave his daggers a little twirl in his hands, before taking off at a run.

Vines erupted around him, but J.J. sprinted past them, slashing them with either hand, and the plants fell limp. Irene let out a soft tsking noise and pointed her thorny hands at him, unleashing a shotgun blast of thorns, but he slipped behind a tree, and the thorns impacted deep into the wood. He took a moment to peek around the side, checking the terrain, then took off to the left.

This time, however, Irene was waiting for him, and she had figured out how to lead a target. She fired her thorns at him again, and while J.J. was able to dodge two of them, he let out a cry as two of the foot-long wooden spears impacted his left thigh and left arm. He hit the ground and rolled, gritting his teeth against the pain. Thankfully, checking himself, he saw that the thorns hadn't broken his armor, but he still felt the pain from being hit.

J.J. let out a hiss as thorny vines erupted around him. His daggers flashed in rapid slashing movements, and the thorns once again fell limp. He tried to ignore the pain as he took off running again, but the damage to leg slowed him down. He'd almost lost his speed advantage, and he knew it.

Thankfully, he thought, he was close enough to try what he had in mind. As he ran, he put his left hand on his D-former, but before he could spin it, he suddenly tripped. Looking behind him, he saw that one of the thorny vines had grabbed his ankle, keeping him in place.

J.J. looked up in horror as Irene smirked at him. She was only about forty feet away, and at this range, they both knew she wouldn't miss. As she held up her hand, J.J. brought his daggers up in front of him to defend himself. When the thorns shot towards him, he swiped his daggers in a wide arc, trying to deflect the thorns away from him, and to his relief, he was able to knock two of the thorns away, while one flew past his face and one harmlessly impacted the armor on his collarbone, before falling to the forest floor.

J.J. grinned behind his mask, but that smile dropped immediately as a blood-curdling scream of pain filled the forest. He felt the color drain out of his face as he slowly looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened as he saw Kelsie lying on the forest floor. A large, bloody gash had been ripped open across in her back, caused by one of the thorns he had deflected away.

J.J. felt his heart stop, and even Irene paused, loosening the vine's grip on his ankle. J.J. pulled away from the vine and scrambled towards Kelsie, kneeling beside her, fighting off the panic welling up inside of him. Gwen abandoned her hiding spot behind another tree and ran towards them, her eyes likewise wide with horror and concern.

"Kelsie… stay with me, girl," J.J. whispered to her. She slowly looked up at him, tears of pain running down her face as she gazed at him blearily.

"It hurts…." she whispered.

"Idiot, why didn't you run when I told you to?!" J.J. hissed at her, looking up at Gwen, who already had her phone out and was calling an ambulance.

"I just… wanted to see… my hero in action," Kelsie smiled weakly at him. "I thought… you could… protect me…."

Those words pierced J.J. deeper than any of the thorns had. His body went limp as the weight of his failure descended on him. Gwen looked up at him, and she put down her phone, taking his face in her hands and lightly slapping one of his cheeks.

"J.J., focus," she said softly, her voice sounding like it was coming from underwater. "An ambulance is on the way, but you need to make this area safe."

"I can't," J.J. said weakly. "I need to stay with Kelsie, make sure she-"

"You're not a doctor," Gwen said firmly, taking hold of his shoulders and shaking him. "And you're the only one that can beat Irene right now. That's your job. If you don't beat her here and now, more people are going to get hurt because of her. Do you want that?"

J.J. numbly shook his head, slowly pushing himself up. He was only dimly aware of what he was doing, however. Almost automatically, he gripped his daggers and turned to face Irene, who was watching them patiently from her spot next to her tree.

"Remove her from my forest," Irene said imperiously. "I have no wish to see the girl die in my sanctum. I will allow you to retreat. This isn't a mercy I'll extend twice."

"No," J.J. said absently, slowly limping towards her as his leg throbbed in pain. "You're not hurting anyone else…."

"Stop. You can't fight in the state you're in," Irene told him. "You look half-broken."

"Then the other half'll just have to make up the difference," J.J. said softly. He took a deep breath, gathering his strength for one final assault, as he spun the blue D-former one more time.

 **"Critical!"** the driver shouted, and the sapphire die once more shrouded J.J., who immediately began running before it could close around him, shrugging off the pain in his thigh. As he rapidly closed the distance, he vanished from the visible spectrum, catching Irene off-guard. She looked around wildly, holding her thorny hands out in front of her defensively. J.J. charged the last few feet towards her, and he let out a yell as he began slashing at her rapidly. He still didn't know how much time he had to stay invisible, but he unleashed a flurry of strikes with his daggers that bit deep into her skin as she screamed in pain. As he turned visible again, he delivered a last cut across her throat, before staggering away from her, all his energy spent.

Irene held her throat, coughing, before turning to look at J.J., who gave her a weary look under his mask. A moment later, however, she straightened enough to limp over to her tree. Before he could react, she put her hand on the trunk, and vines surrounded her, pulling her into the earth. J.J. watched her disappear, then collapsed to the ground, no longer able to support himself. For several long moments, he simply stared at the sky above him, unmoving.

The sound of sirens brought him back to the real world, and he slid his hand languidly down to the amber D-former, which he popped out of his diary, and his suit disappeared. He pushed himself up and saw Gwen kneeling beside Kelsie, whispering to her. J.J., however, couldn't bring himself to face the girl. Guilt utterly consumed him, and he crawled over to the base of a tree and sat against it, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.

He was only barely aware of the paramedics arriving to bring Kelsie to the hospital. He was vaguely conscious of a paramedic checking him and asking him if he was alright. He wasn't, but he waved the man off and assured him that he wasn't injured. The man gave him a skeptical look but didn't press the issue. In short order, Kelsie had been strapped to a gurney, and the medics began carrying her out of the forest. J.J. remained where he was, looking up at the sky, until a shadow fell over him, and he glanced over to see Gwen looking down at him.

"Do you want to ride with her to the hospital?" Gwen asked.

"She called me a hero," J.J. said hoarsely, not answering her question, as he gave her a broken smile. "Her hero. And yet… I couldn't protect her."

"It's not your fault, J.J.," Gwen told him, kneeling down to pull him against her chest.

J.J. couldn't bring himself to answer. He simply laid there silently, staring blankly while Gwen held him and the sirens faded into the distance.


	13. Session 13

**Session 13**

J.J. slowly opened his eyes, and immediately a groan left his lips. He began rubbing the back of his neck slowly, which had gone stiff from the way he was sleeping. He had been dozing off in one of the chairs in the waiting room of the hospital where Kelsie had been taken after his last battle. Though he had been in shock for about half an hour after Kelsie had been injured, once recovered he and Gwen had followed the ambulance to the hospital so they could give a report about what had happened and check on her condition.

Naturally, when they had told the doctors and police what had happened, J.J. had left out the part that he'd played in the battle, instead describing it from the viewpoint of a bystander that had been watching from afar. Recounting the battle had made bile rise in his throat, and more than once he'd had to pause as his words became strangled. Thankfully, once he was finished, the doctors had allowed him to stay in the hospital's waiting room. J.J. had insisted on remaining there until he knew that Kelsie was out of critical condition. She was apparently undergoing intensive care, but the doctors were at least optimistic about her chances.

One overnight stay later, though, had not yielded a change in Kelsie's condition. Gwen had stayed with him, and even when he'd tried to dissuade her, she stubbornly refused to let him linger in the hospital on her own. Glancing around now, he noticed that she wasn't in the lobby. Maybe she had run to the bathroom, he thought as he pushed himself into a more comfortable sitting position. After all, it had been a long night.

J.J. reached up and briefly touched his cheek, where a pair of long scratch marks had been carved into his skin. They were mementos of his first meeting with Kelsie's parents. Shortly after he and Gwen had arrived at the hospital, a hysterical blond woman and a haggard-looking man with thinning black hair had come charging into the waiting room, demanding to know what had happened to their daughter. Once they had been given the story J.J. had told the doctors, the woman had been left weeping, while the man stood there trying to comfort her. J.J. had decided to take that opportunity to approach them.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" J.J. had said, walking slowly towards the woman with an uncomfortable smile. The pair had looked up at him, confused. "My name is J.J. I was there when your daughter was injured."

"What happened?" the man asked, while the woman peered into his face intently.

"She was… harmed in an accident during a fight with those monsters," J.J. explained, wanting to at least provide her parents with an accurate story. They deserved that much, he thought to himself. "An accident that I caused."

"Explain yourself," the woman had hissed at him through her tears.

"You see, I'm… I'm the guy who's been fighting the monsters," J.J. said after a moment's hesitation. "While I was fighting, the monster tried to attack me with a sort of arrow attack, and when I blocked the attack, one of the arrows struck your daughter. I-"

Before he could continue, the woman had suddenly lunged at him and smacked him across the face, her manicured nails leaving deep gashes in his cheeks. The waiting room had gone silent, people staring at her in shock, as she furiously glared at J.J. with tear-rimmed red eyes.

"It was your fault?!" she spat. "You're the reason my daughter got injured?!"

"Sweetie, that's not fair to the poor boy," her husband said soothingly. "I'm sure he did what he could-"

"Then he didn't do enough!" the woman yelled. "If you're going to run around playing hero, isn't your job supposed to be protecting people first?! Why the hell didn't you protect my daughter then, hero-boy?!"

J.J. couldn't answer her, simply looking down at the floor as he held his cheek.

"That's enough!" Gwen barked suddenly, stepping between them as the woman's furious gaze turned towards the white-haired girl. "You can't blame him for everything that happened!"

"No? Then who else am I supposed to blame?" the woman snarled back.

"How about the monster, for one?" Gwen bit back. "J.J. was just defending himself! What, are you saying that he should have just taken that attack dead on?"

"Better him than Kelsie!" her mother grumbled.

"And what about your daughter's part in all this, huh?" Gwen continued, drawing herself up to her full height. She was a short girl, only five feet tall, so she only came up to the woman's chin, but the woman still took a step back from the fierce look in Gwen's eyes. "You'd think once a monster attack happens, the smart thing to do would be to get out of the area! Hell, J.J. even told her to run, but she stayed behind to watch the fight, like she was at a football game or something! It's her own fault for not getting out of the way! She put herself in danger, and while it sucks that she was injured, she got hurt because of her own actions!"

"How dare you?!" Kelsie's mother yelled in Gwen's face. "How dare you suggest that my daughter deserved to get hurt?!"

"I'm not saying she deserved it!" Gwen shot back. "But if you're going to stick around a battlefield, you've got to expect that you might get hit by collateral damage!"

"Your little boyfriend was just so inept that-!" the blond woman began to snap back, but her husband finally stepped in, grabbing her shoulders.

"That's enough, both of you," he said firmly.

"No… your wife is right, sir," J.J. said softly, still unable to meet the woman's eyes. "Her safety should have been my priority, and I failed her. If she didn't want to listen to me, I should have dragged her out of the area myself and come back."

"Damn right you should have!" the woman snarled, though his admission seemed to have softened her slightly.

"Oh, come on, that's ridiculous, J.J.!" Gwen cried. "If you wasted your time getting her out of there, that Diemon would have killed those other boys! And if you weren't there in the first place, it would have killed Kelsie outright!"

"Thank you, Gwen," J.J. said with a soft smile at her. "But I was the one who deflected the attack that got her injured, so in the end, this is my fault." He inclined his head towards Kelsie's parents, a look of contrition on his face. "It won't make this any better, but you have my sincere apologies for what happened. I take full responsibility for her injuries."

"No… it won't make it better," the woman growled, turning and stalking away. Her husband watched her stalk over to the other side of the hospital, shaking his head, before looking back at J.J.

"Don't mind her," he said gently. "She's just worried about our daughter. I am too. She knows that it wasn't your fault and that you did everything you could, but she needs to vent. Thank you, though, for letting her blow off steam and for claiming responsibility for your part in all this. That shows a great deal of character, son."

"You're kind to say so," J.J. said. "But it doesn't change what I did."

"No, but you're trying to do what you can to own up to it, and we appreciate it. Or at least I do," he said, holding out his hand, which J.J. took. "My name is Sam, and my wife's name is Karen. Listen, if you'd like to stay, feel free to. My wife might complain about it, but I'll overrule her. I can tell you're worried about our daughter, and I'm sure Kelsie would appreciate seeing you once she wakes up. She talks about you all the time, you know," he added with a slight grin. "If they were selling posters of you, she'd have them all over her room. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to have her hero visiting her."

"Thank you," J.J. said. "I'll take you up on that offer, then, if you don't mind."

Thus, J.J. and Gwen had spent the night in the waiting room, with Gwen leaving briefly in the evening to go pick up dinner for everyone. She and J.J. had fallen asleep next to each other in their chairs, and apparently some of the hospital staff had dropped by to drape blankets over them.

J.J. yawned and rolled his neck, glancing over at where Kelsie's parents were sitting on the couch. Sam was already up, with Karen still sleeping on his chest. J.J. shot him a questioning glance, but Sam shook his head sadly. J.J. sighed, adjusting his position in the chair so that he was leaning on his hand.

The automatic doors to the hospital slid open, and he was surprised to see Tristan and Susumu striding in, with Tristan carrying a tray laden with coffee and a bag of some sort of food. The knight nodded briefly to J.J. by way of greeting as he took a seat next to him.

"A difficult night standing watch, page?" he asked, handing over the bag, which J.J. opened with a grateful smile. "You look as though your sleep was not particularly restful. I am relieved to see that you do not appear to have sustained any significant injuries, however."

"Wish the same could be said for everyone," J.J. murmured as he opened the bag to see that they had brought bagels. He pulled one out along with a pat of butter and a knife, before handing the bag to Tristan, who did the same.

"Indeed. The first casualty is always the most difficult to move past," Tristan said. "However, Lady Marks made it sound as though you felt responsible for the girl's injuries."

"I was," J.J. said, explaining what had happened while Tristan slowly chewed the soft bread.

"I see. Then you did not maintain awareness of your surroundings," Tristan said. However, his tone wasn't condescending; rather, there was a note of sympathy in his voice. "I regret that you had to experience the consequences of that lesson. Still, I assume that you have learned from your actions?"

"Yeah," J.J. said, still not able to meet Tristan's eyes.

"Then the girl's injuries were not in vain. Cruel as it may seem, one must view such tragedies in a positive light, if possible," Tristan said sympathetically. "Endeavor not to repeat your mistakes from now on and incorporate the lesson in future battles."

"Right," J.J. murmured, picking up one of the cups of coffee. Tristan did the same, staring at it curiously.

"Now, perhaps you can enlighten me, page?" he added, tilting his head at the drink. "What manner of concoction is this?"

"Think of it as a stimulant potion," J.J. suggested, taking a sip of his own drink. "And thank god Susumu remembered that I prefer it sweet," he added, setting the cup on a nearby table.

Tristan sniffed the drink cautiously, frowning at it. "The aroma is rather strong, but not unpleasant," he muttered. Slowly, he brought the cup to his lips. J.J. glanced over at Susumu and raised an eyebrow.

"Ah…what style did you buy for Tristan?" J.J. asked warily.

"Black," Susumu shrugged.

J.J.'s eyes widened in alarm, and he pushed himself out of the chair just as Tristan spat the drink out in disgust, startling the others in the waiting room. The knight gagged and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, staring at the coffee cup like he had just been force-fed poison.

"You willingly ingest this?!" Tristan cried incredulously. Despite how miserable he was feeling, J.J. began laughing softly.

"Sorry!" he said through his chuckling, handing out a napkin for Tristan, unable to keep a straight face. "Call it an acquired taste. I'm with you on this one, I tend to treat it like medicine myself. Next time try it with cream or sugar."

"There shall not be a next time, I assure you!" Tristan choked, wiping off his jeans. "I cannot fathom why this society insists on consuming such strong food! Why can you not be satisfied with simple flavors?!"

"At least the bagels are good, right?" J.J. asked, still chuckling. "Hang on, I'll get you a bottle of water."

"Much obliged, page," Tristan said with a nod as he continued wiping himself off.

"I'll come with you," Susumu grunted, pushing himself up with his cane and limping beside J.J. as they went to one of the vending machines to pick up drinks. As J.J. pulled out his wallet, Susumu reached out and lightly grabbed his wrist, shaking his head.

"I've got this," he offered, pulling his own wallet out.

"Thanks," J.J. sighed, letting out a large yawn. Susumu cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You going to be alright? You look dead on your feet," Susumu commented as he slid the money into the machine.

"Yeah. Amazingly, sleeping on a hard waiting room chair doesn't give you a good night's sleep," J.J. said drily, rubbing the back of his neck again to try and relieve the pain that had collected there.

Susumu let out a soft chuckle as he pushed the button for a bottle of water. "Well, here's hoping it gets better at least. Try to stay positive. The doctors said that they're optimistic about Kelsie's chances for recovery, right?"

"Mm," J.J. said noncommittally. Susumu stared at him, before changing the subject slightly.

"Any idea what Diemon you're up against this time?" he asked, handing J.J. one of the bottles before leaning on his cane.

"Yeah. Thankfully, it was an easy one to figure out," J.J. said, patting the diary in his pocket. "Irene turned into a dryad. Tree spirit that protects the forest, and gets particularly snippy when anyone desecrates nature. It suits her rather well."

"So what do you know about her?" Susumu asked.

"Sadly, little that I didn't glean already from our fight," J.J. explained as they began to make their way back into the waiting room. "She's a ranged fighter who can control plants, and she prefers to ensnare people before pelting them from a distance with wood and thorns and whatnot. Though I was surprised by her stats. Her speed is quite low, which is what I expected, but her melee defense is pretty high. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised, if she's based on a tree."

"You said melee defense," Susumu pointed out.

"Yeah. And that's what worries me," J.J. admitted. "She's weak to elemental attacks, like I thought."

"Then what's the problem?" Susumu asked.

"I really don't want to use Mage Class in this fight," J.J. said, looking away. "I'm not an environmentalist or anything, but I don't relish the idea of burning down an entire forest. If I'm going all out, I'm worried that any collateral damage will be enough to set off a wildfire. If I were to use Mage Class's Meteor Swarm Critical, I'd have to hit her dead-on with every fireball; one miss could torch everything for over a mile. So, even supposing that I did decide to use Mage Class to take advantage of her weakness to fire, I'd still have to hold back, and she'd still have an edge on me."

"Is there any way to lure her out of the forest?" Susumu suggested.

"I thought of that, but I don't have anything that'd be good enough bait to use to draw her out," J.J. sighed. "Everything she cares about is in that forest, and she's completely consumed by her desire to protect it. She doesn't have any reason to leave."

"Alright… so what's your plan?" Susumu asked softly, leaning against one of the walls just outside of the waiting room so that they wouldn't be overheard.

"The only thing I've been able to come up with so far is doing what I did in the last fight – using Thief Class's speed to get close and pelt her with hits until she goes down," J.J. said gloomily. "It's not a great plan, I know, but it's all I could come up with. Hopefully, this time there'll be no one else in the area, so I can dodge and block all I want." The memory that statement dredged up caused a knot to form in J.J.'s throat, and he quickly took a drink of water.

"And when do you plan to confront her again?" Susumu asked slowly. He glanced to the side as a small commotion seemed to be going on in the lobby.

"I'd rather put it off for as long as I can, honestly," J.J. sighed, swirling the water around in the bottle while he stared at it. "I'm tired, for one thing, and even if I'd gotten enough sleep last night, I'm not really in the right state of mind to be fighting. I'm too worried about Kelsie to focus on a battle with a Diemon. So long as she keeps her head down…."

"You may not have that option," Susumu said, nodding towards the lobby. J.J. frowned, and he walked into the lobby, where a few people were staring at a TV. The channel was on the local news, and when he saw what was being reported, his eyes widened.

"…here at the Marville City Park, where thick, thorny vines seem to have undergone an explosive growth overnight, enclosing the forested area of the Park," the woman reporting on the story was saying. "No one can adequately explain the sudden abundance of vegetation, but police believe this to be the latest in the string of monster attacks that have been happening around the city. So far, efforts to clear the vines have proven futile, and experts are hesitant to use more extreme methods like burning them. We go now to Rob Tennyson, who is…."

"That was quick," J.J. murmured as Gwen walked over to them. A sudden thought caused dread to well up inside him, and he slowly pulled his diary out of his pocket. "Why didn't this go off?"

"What do you mean?" Susumu asked softly.

"Every other time a Diemon I've faced has used their powers, the diary has told me about it," J.J. said softly, gazing at the book accusingly. He pulled the quill out of the book and opened it to a blank page. "So why didn't you tell me this time?"

The quill began writing of its own accord. _You did not wish to be disturbed, so I followed that request. You were saying in your sleep that you hoped you did not have to fight another Diemon. I merely acquiesced to that request._

"So you were being considerate?" J.J. smiled softly. "In a way, I appreciate that. But… I think this situation has gotten a bit out of hand while you were giving me a break."

"Are you going to head out, then?" Gwen asked, having been eavesdropping on their conversation. She sidled up to J.J. and squeezed his hand.

J.J. looked down at the floor, wrestling with the guilt welling up inside of him again. "I… I mean, she's not exactly hurting anyone right now," he said slowly as he looked up at the TV. He could feel Gwen scowling at him and Susumu raising an eyebrow as he spoke. "And like I said, Kelsie is still on my mind. I'd rather be here when she wakes up. Maybe if-"

"Stop," Gwen said firmly, turning and grabbing his shoulders. She gave him a little shake, staring into his eyes. "You're not going to ignore this. People are depending on you to stop that Diemon. Irene most of all. Can you imagine the state of mind she must be in right now? That," she said, pointing at the screen, "is a call for help. Consider it an overblown version of clinging to a blanket and crying."

"But what about-?" J.J. began.

"J.J., you're not a doctor," Susumu said softly. "Staying here isn't going to help Kelsie recover any faster. I know you're worried about her, and it's admirable that you stayed this long to make sure she's alright. But right now, other people need your help more than she does, and you _can_ help them. What if other people are trapped in the woods right now, and they can't find their way out?"

"You already screwed up once. I'm glad you realize that, but don't make it worse by not doing what you can to save others," Gwen said bluntly.

"…You're both right," J.J. said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He walked over to the chair he'd been sitting in and grabbed his leather jacket, slinging it over his shoulders. Noticing Tristan looking at him, he added, "Are you gonna come too?"

"Not this time," Tristan said, still scowling at the coffee cup. "We are in a medical building, yes? I believe I need to see a healer myself to ensure that you did not poison me with that disgusting beverage."

J.J. couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. "Alright, alright. We'll get you tea next time."

"Keep your wits about you, page," Tristan said more seriously. "I know you are still preoccupied with other matters, but you cannot fight effectively if you are distracted. When you reach your destination, clear your mind and focus only on the task at hand. Do what you can about what is in front of you. And remain aware of your surroundings," he said firmly.

"Don't worry. That's not a lesson I need to learn twice," J.J. said firmly, pulling his jacket on as he turned towards the door with a deep sigh. As he tried to step away, he felt Gwen pull him back.

"Be careful," she said softly, before leaning up and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "We'll be here when you get back."

"Th-thanks," J.J. stammered, giving her a sheepish grin. "Great advice, Tristan, keeping my head clear," he added, trying to affect his usual sarcastic tone. "Now I've got something else entirely to focus on!"

His friends let out a smattering of laughter as he walked out the door and into the hospital parking lot where his bike was still parked. As he straddled it and pulled on his helmet, he paused for a moment to look up at the building one last time.

"Get better, Kelsie. I'll be back," he said under his breath, before turning on his bike and revving it, heading off towards the park.

* * *

As J.J. pulled into the parking lot, he could already see a small crowd gathered around the entrance to the forest, trying to peer past a wall massive, woody vines that were blocking the entrance to the forest. Each of the vines was about three feet thick, and studded with foot-long thorns to deter anyone from entering. A couple of teenagers were trying to climb over them, but the vines were layered on top of each other to create an outward-facing incline that made climbing them for more than a few feet impossible. Nevertheless, the teens were making a game of it, seeing how far they could climb before they fell off, laughing when they hit the ground. J.J. shook his head as he dismounted his bike and locked it.

"You'd think these idiots would learn not to hover around a dangerous area," he muttered to himself as he started to make his way across the field, looking to find a secluded spot, while also hoping that there was an opening in the vines that he could exploit. "These are probably the same people that would gather around a toxic waste site and breathe in the fumes. What part of 'these monsters are trying to kill you' do they not understand?"

As he expected, the longer he skirted around the treeline of the forest, the more convinced he became that the wall of vines completely enclosed the forest, protecting it from anyone trying to trespass from the outside. He'd need to use brute force to enter. J.J. made his way behind a tree and looked around furtively to make sure there was no one in sight before pulling out his diary.

"We're going to need to play a game of Marco Polo here," he said softly to the diary. "Thanks for giving me a rest last night, but now I need you to help me locate Irene. Can you restore that function?"

 _Acknowledged,_ the diary replied. J.J. nodded in thanks, opening the book to his stats page and holding the book up near his left cheek.

"Henshin!" he called out, and when his Driver appeared around his waist, he slotted the book into the central belt buckle and spun the amber D-former in the center of the cover. **"Adventure: Begin!"** the diary shouted while a trumpet played, and J.J. closed his eyes as he was surrounded by the amber crystal formation. As it cleared, he remained standing behind the tree in his leather armor, and his quill flew into his hand, which he extended out into his sword form. He took a slow breath to steady his nerves and approached the vines slowly, holding the blade out in front of him.

To his relief, the vines didn't lash out at him; if they had, he wondered how much damage he would have taken. It seemed Irene just wanted to ward people away from the woods without hurting them if she could. Either that, or she couldn't animate the vines without being near them, as J.J. suspected she was probably deeper in the forest. Cautiously, he slashed at the vines. Thankfully, the sword cut through the thick vines like cloth, and they didn't try to re-heal themselves. Thus, he set about hacking at the vines, using his sword like a machete to open a gap that he could slip through.

When he had finally cleared away enough of the vines to make a hole, J.J. slipped into the narrow opening he had created and ran his fingers along the edge of the blade to clean off the sticky sap that coated it. As he stepped into the woods, he was immediately struck by a feeling of unease as he took in his eerie surroundings.

The trees were now overgrown with plant life. The leaves above him was so thick that even though it was mid-morning, J.J. felt like it was well past sundown, given how little light penetrated the canopy. Large mushrooms grew out of the ground, coming almost up to J.J.'s knees, and brilliantly colored, luminescent flowers provided a bit more illumination in the dark forest. He could hear the chittering of insects and rodents that had been trapped by the alien landscape, and as he stood in the shadows of the trees, he swore he could see the flowers turning to gaze at the intruder.

"Tsk… I always hated trying to clear the forest dungeons," J.J. muttered to himself as he began walking slowly across the forest floor. The sound of his feet crunching through the dead leaves echoed in J.J.'s ears, louder than the oppressive sounds of the forest around him. The air was heavy with humidity, almost as though he was in a rainforest after a heavy storm, and as he walked, he had the oppressive sense of hostility from every other living thing inhabiting the area. He would rather trek through the Marks catacombs again then go deeper into these woods, he thought grimly.

"Ah! We were wondering when it would finally make its way here!" came a familiar cackling voice that made the hairs on the back of J.J.'s neck stand on end. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse, he thought bitterly. "Did it sleep too long? Is it not amazing how quickly nature moves to reclaim the lands that man took from it?"

J.J. swung around towards the sound of the giggling, and he looked up to see the Fool sitting cross-legged on one of the branches above him, idly kicking one leg back and forth as it gazed down at him. J.J. let out a slight growl as he pointed his sword at the clown.

"What, did you get bored of tormenting artists and decided to go on a nature hike instead?" he snapped at the jester. The Fool laughed merrily as it pushed itself up and began walking along the narrow tree branches as leisurely as one would stroll down a sidewalk.

"Oooh, its tongue is sharper than its blade today!" the Fool giggled. "We could ask the same. Does it not have other responsibilities? Does it truly have time to waste with gardening?"

J.J. grit his teeth, his mind flashing briefly to Kelsie, and he growled in reply, "Considering how badly the hedges need pruning, no. Especially since I'm the only one that can do it."

"Oh, is that the role it's decided to play today?" the clown taunted him. "Is it wearing the mask of an avenger? No… its voice is tinged with too much sadness for that. A martyr, perhaps? Is that a note of self-pity that we detect?"

"Are you going to help me find Irene?" J.J. snapped.

"Why would we do that? So it can end her dream like it did with poor Peter? It never considers that those who accept our master's gift are happy with the power they are given, does it?" the Fool sneered. "Look around. Does it truly believe that Irene wishes to entertain a guest?"

"If you're not going to help, then keep your mouth shut. I don't want any commentary from the audience," J.J. snapped, turning around to resume his trudge through the forest.

"Oh, then we should not warn it of what stands behind it, should we?" the clown giggled maliciously.

"…What?" J.J. asked as a hammer blow slammed against the back of his head, and he was sent sprawling across the ground, spraying up dead leaves as he did. He grunted as he looked over his shoulder at a trio of Shards standing behind him, their hollow eyes and the crystals on their bodies glowing a ghostly electric blue in the dim light of the forest. One of them cocked its fist back and slammed it down towards J.J. He reflexively brought his sword up, slashing through its arm, and the Shard staggered backwards, staring dumbly at the stump of a limb it now had.

J.J. pushed himself up as the other two Shards charged at him. He backpedaled away from them, trying to keep them from flanking him, but with little success as they quickly overtook him on either side. Unable to outrun them, he jumped into the air, leaping ten feet vertically to get a look at them from above and figure out his next move.

Above him, he noticed a branch, and he grabbed it and hung on, giving himself a little time to think while the Shards milled around the base of the tree beneath him. It was rather like a pack of dogs treeing a squirrel, he thought to himself, unable to keep a grimly amused smile off his face as he looked around. To his left, he spotted a vine hanging limply from the branch, and he was struck with an idea.

J.J. climbed hand-over-hand towards the vine, taking hold of it before looking down at the Shards still staring up at him. He took a deep breath, then let go of the branch while gripping the vine tightly. Immediately, he was struck with a sense of vertigo as the ground rushed towards him, but then the vine snapped taut, and he swung towards one of the Shards. Extending his leg, he delivered a vicious kick to its midsection, knocking it onto his back before he turned to face the other two Shards, still gripping the vine.

The mindless beasts ran at him, which he was banking on – they really only had one attack pattern, which made them predictable. He pulled the vine taut as he counter-charged them, and as they swung their hands at him, he slid beneath them. The Shard on his left was tripped by the vine he was holding, while the other ran past him. J.J. skidded to a halt and reversed his direction, stabbing the prone Shard in the back before its companion had time to recover. The second Shard paused and looked over its shoulder at him, while the third Shard had finally managed to get back on its feet. The closer Shard once again swung at him, but J.J. swayed out of the way of the way before circling around behind it, taking the vine with him. He completed the circle, wrapping the vine around the Shard and immobilizing it long enough to deliver a quick stab through its throat, reducing the beast to a pile of ash.

The third Shard began running at him, claws extended, but J.J. simply pushed the vine towards it. It hit the Shard in the face, and while it did no damage, it was enough of a distraction to let J.J. counter-charge it while the Shard pushed the vine away from its face. J.J. delivered a quick slash across its chest, and the Shard slowed its run before crumbling to dust. J.J. let out a quick sigh as he relaxed, giving the sword a quick spin in his hand before looking up at the trees.

The Fool was nowhere in sight, having apparently wandered off while J.J. was dealing with the Shards, but as J.J. began to walk through the woods, he heard the giggling voice above him comment, "That looked like fun. And it was entertaining, so we will give it some advice in exchange for its performance. If it thinks those are the only dangers lurking in the forest, it will not have a pleasant journey. It should watch its step."

J.J. scoffed to himself as he put his hand on his D-former. In this situation, when he needed speed and agility, as well as the ability to move quietly, there really was only one option. He put his thumb on the blue D-former and gave it a quick spin.

 **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his driver bellowed into the forest, and as a saxophone began playing, J.J. was encased in a holographic blue crystal formation, which spun around him. As it finished spinning, he glanced down at his blue jacket, as if checking to be sure he was in the right form. He gave his daggers a little twirl in his hand before taking off into the dark forest at a jog.

For about five minutes, he jogged along the barely-visible trail, trying to ignore the sense that he was being watched the entire time. He couldn't help but wonder how sophisticated Irene's powers to control plant life were. Could she see through the flowers, as if they were individual video cameras? For that matter, how powerful _had_ she become? He'd never seen someone use a D-former to this extent; the most he'd had to deal with before now was Peter animating his ice sculptures to attack him. How long had it taken Irene to set up defenses throughout the forest? Had she been at this all night? More importantly, if she was this powerful, did he have a chance of fighting her? Or had reshaping so much of the forest drained her of her energy instead?

As he was sorting out his thoughts, J.J. felt his left foot suddenly plunge through a pile of dead leaves. He let out a cry of pain as he stumbled forward, and at the last moment, he pushed off with what little footing he had in his right foot, allowing him to leap forward. He landed gracelessly on his stomach, grunting as sharp pain shot through his wrists as he braced himself from the fall. Above him, the Fool laughed mockingly again. Turning, he looked over his shoulder to see that he had narrowly avoided falling into a pongee pit, which had been camouflaged under a patch of dead leaves. J.J. peered into the pit and winced as he saw sharp, three-foot long thorns sticking out of the ground, waiting to impale any intruders.

His heart pounding, J.J. slowly pushed himself up and began to move more cautiously through the forest. This time, he warily watched the ground, lightly kicking piles of leaves to make sure he wasn't going to fall into another trap. Of course, this hampered his speed, and after ten minutes, he was growing frustrated with how little progress he seemed to be making. The forest seemed to go on forever. He sighed to himself, looking up at the trees. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea. If the Fool could walk along the branches of the trees without fearing the traps in the forest, could he do the same?

Once again, he gathered strength into his legs and leaped into the air, grabbing another branch before swinging himself around to perch on the thick wood. He cautiously leaped from one branch to catch another, and then he swung himself around to the next branch. Thus, he was able to make quicker time through the woods, without having to touch the ground. This went well for about five minutes, until his arms began to get tired, at which point he gave a final leap before landing gently on the ground in a low crouch.

With a sigh, he pulled his diary out of his belt, reverting to his Adventurer class, and he clicked his pen to shrink it back down into its quill form. "Are we any closer, do you think?" he asked the diary in a low voice, glancing around warily as the insects around him chirped loudly, almost drowning out his voice.

 _It is difficult to locate the Diemon,_ the diary said, J.J. squinting to make out the words in the low light. _There is too much interference for me to do more than provide an estimate of where the strongest power source is._

"Dammit. This is taking too long, and I'm wearing myself out," J.J. sighed, leaning back against a tree. "I feel like every step I take, I'm going to run into a trap."

A rustling sound to his left caught J.J.'s attention, and he swung around to see a Shard swiping a claw at him. He quickly parried the blow, knocking the Shard's arm off to the side, before shifting his weight forward and stabbing it in the chest, reducing the Shard to dust.

"Not to mention that I'm being hunted the entire time," he snarled. "I don't suppose you can at least tell me how many Shards are left in the area?"

 _Shards have only a faint presence, so I am having difficulty locating them given how far the Diemon's influence has spread,_ the diary said apologetically.

J.J. paused, holding up one finger as if to silence the diary, even though it wasn't making a sound in the first place. He strained his ears, having thought he heard something in the distance. As he listened closely, he could swear he heard yelling off to the east. Was someone else in the area? Closing the diary, he slipped it back onto his belt, and he switched back into his Thief Class before hurrying to his right.

As he traveled, he was caught in a dilemma, having to balance speed with caution. He skirted any pile of leaves he saw, but doing so slowed him down, reducing him to what was essentially a quick walk instead of the flat-out run he would have preferred, almost negating the speed advantage Thief Class gave him. Three minutes later, though, he finally saw what had been making so much noise.

A group of Shards was milling around a young man, who was cowering near a tree. The Shards didn't seem to be particularly bothered by him; rather, they appeared to be basking in the twisted forest, which J.J. assumed had to do with whatever the connection between the Shards and the D-formers was. Perhaps because Irene had used her powers to transform the forest, the Shards were now able to enjoy the ambience of the surroundings, instead of just seeking her out, which would have made tracking her much easier, J.J. realized in hindsight. It might have been the same reason his diary was having trouble finding Irene as well – there was just too much of the surrounding area affected by the D-formers.

The Shards were oblivious to the screaming young man, but he continued screaming for help nonetheless. He was glancing furtively back and forth between them, as if wondering if they were going to attack him. J.J. stopped behind a tree and leaned forward, trying to get a look at the kid's face. His eyes then widened, and he muttered under his breath, "Are you serious?"

From this distance, he recognized the figure as the leader of the boys who had been tormenting Irene the day before. His appearance was much more disheveled, his hair hanging limply in his eyes and dark with sweat and oil, his clothes wrinkled and speckled with dirt, as if he'd spent hours lying on the ground in them. He was also almost unrecognizable as the cocky, smirking punk that had harassed Irene from the first time he saw the boy; now his eyes were wild and frightened, and he whimpered any time a Shard got within ten feet of him. It was a pitiful sight.

Part of J.J. wanted to ignore the kid and let him stew in his own fear some more, as he felt it would be fitting retribution for this kid starting this whole mess in the first place. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Especially since the Shards didn't seem to be interested in him anyways. However… his job was to protect anyone in need, and J.J. knew he couldn't pick and choose who he wanted to save. There was also no guarantee that the Shards would continue to ignore him, or that if Irene found him, that she wouldn't want to exact some revenge herself, especially in her deranged state. J.J. rolled his eyes as he put his thumb on his blue D-former and gave it a quick spin.

 **"Critical!"** the die shouted into the air, and both the Shards and the young man looked towards the source of the noise as J.J. disappeared. Gripping his daggers, J.J. charged at the Shards, darting between them while he was invisible and stabbing them each three times to ensure he did enough damage to destroy them. When his time ran out, J.J. was left standing with his back to the Shards, who remained still for a few moments longer before all three crumbled into dust. J.J. let out a slow sigh to catch his breath before turning to face the young man, who was staring at J.J. wide-eyed, his hesitant gaze indicating that he was unsure if he was looking at an ally or a new enemy that wanted to finish him off personally.

"Relax. If I was going to kill you, I would have done so by now," J.J. said bluntly. It was harsh, but he wasn't in the mood to coddle the teen. "Are you hurt at all?"

"N-no," the boy stammered, picking himself up off the ground. "You… you're the guy from yesterday, right?"

"No, I'm the spirit of the forest, here to exact retribution for your callous disregard for the sanctity of life. Prepare yourself for my judgment," J.J. said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. When the kid whimpered in terror, however, he felt the need to add, "Yes, I'm the guy from yesterday! What're you doing here?"

"I… I was trapped in here when that chick went berserk," the teen stammered, looking away from J.J. "I was just on my way out when all these vines sprang up around me, and-"

"Uh-huh. In that case, why aren't your friends in here with you?" J.J. asked bluntly. "Don't you three hang out together?"

"They uh… must have escaped," the kid said, looking away.

"Yeah. How about if you stop lying to me?" J.J. snarled, folding his arms over his chest. "Those vines keeping you in here weren't there when I saw you turning tail and running yesterday afternoon. Let me take a guess about what actually happened. You were stewing all afternoon, and you figured that evening that you'd come back to this forest and raise some hell for Irene, in revenge for making you look stupid. You called up your friends to have them come with you, but they at least were smart enough to not want to tick off the supernatural forest spirit any more than they already had, so they refused. Despite that, you came here by yourself, snuck into the forest when Irene was setting her traps, and the vines went up behind you while you were trying to find her. You've been here all night, trying not to get killed by those Shards, and hoping Irene doesn't find you. How's that, am I in the ballpark here?"

"…Jet and Xavier just said their parents wouldn't let 'em out, it's not that they didn't want to come," the boy said lamely.

"You're an idiot, aren't you?" J.J. sighed. "What's your name?"

"Trey Redland. Why?" he asked.

"So I know who to turn over to the cops for vandalism after I get you out of here," J.J. growled.

"Wait… you're going to get me out?" Trey asked, his eyes widening hopefully. J.J. noticed he'd ignored the second part of his threat.

"Yeah. If Irene caught you, she'd probably kill you outright, and while you deserve some sort of punishment, killing you is going too far. I'm thinking juvie is probably enough," J.J. said. He grabbed the kid under his arm and hoisted him to his feet, looking around the forest warily. "Now the question is which way is out…."

"If you kill Irene, wouldn't that just stop all of this?" Trey asked.

"I'm not killing her," J.J. said firmly. "And there's no guarantee the forest will go back to normal if I do." In the back of his mind, J.J. was worried about what would happen once he did beat Irene. Would all her new plant life die? Would the forest ever recover? And what about all the traps she'd laid last night? Would they just dissolve as well, or would people be finding pongee pits for weeks?

"What're you going to do then?" Trey asked warily.

"First, I'd like to get you out of here," J.J. said. "I don't need another person getting hurt on my account. Irene can wait. It's not like I know where she is anyways."

"Oh, I do," Trey said easily.

J.J. stared at him from behind his mask. "How?" he asked bluntly.

"You think Irene is the only one who knows this forest?" Trey pointed out with a cocky smirk. "My friends and I hang out in here all the time. Irene might be wandering around, but I'm willing to bet she's at her tree. She always was whenever we came in here. I can take you there."

J.J. hesitated. He didn't think he could handle it if one more person got injured when he should have saved them. Even if Trey was a brat, he didn't want to see the boy get hurt when he should have prioritized his safety. And yet… J.J. knew he could use a guide. He had no idea how to navigate the forest, and he was already exhausted after only about forty minutes of traveling and fighting. Trey, on the other hand, had managed to survive an entire night in the hostile woods, so clearly he had some idea about what he was doing. Plus, the longer he let Irene go, the more time she had to fortify the forest. He'd managed to slip in this time, but he had no guarantee she wouldn't learn from his intrusion and set up more traps the next time. Shouldn't he nip this in the bud, so to speak?

"…Alright," J.J. said finally after weighing his options for several moments. "However, a few ground rules. You guide me, but if I tell you to get out of the way and find cover, you do so. If I tell you to run, I want you to get as far away from me as possible. And while we're traveling, keep your head down and your mouth shut, so I can keep an eye out for danger. The Shards will usually leave you alone for the most part, but if they see you near me, they might turn hostile and go after you. I can't be fighting Irene and the Shards at the same time. Got it?"

Trey nodded quickly, then motioned for J.J. to follow him. J.J. kept his daggers at the ready in case they were attacked, but for over ten minutes, they were able to travel unmolested, without hitting any traps. J.J. had to reluctantly admit that Trey was a good guide.

"Can I ask a question?" Trey whispered suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Make it quick," J.J. murmured, looking around to make sure his voice wasn't attracting any attention.

"What happened to that girl from yesterday? The younger one?" Trey asked. "I thought I recognized her on the news last night.

J.J.'s stomach sank. "She's… in the hospital right now."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Trey said, though J.J. couldn't tell if the apology was sincere. After a moment, he added, "Was it my fault?"

J.J. opened his mouth, then closed it behind his helmet. To his surprise, he saw a look of remorse on Trey's face. "Wait, are you feeling guilty?" J.J. asked.

"What?" Trey asked, looking a bit hurt. "Look, me and my friends like to mess with people, but we don't want to hurt anyone."

"Really? Then why did you think lighting part of the forest on fire was a good idea?" J.J. growled.

"That… we weren't going to let it spread! We were going to put it out!" Trey protested.

"Right. Because lighting a fire in a dry forest has _never_ been a bad idea, especially when someone is _sure_ the fire won't spread," J.J. said in a biting tone. "In any case, yes, it was partially your fault that she's in the hospital. It was partially everyone's fault, including hers. But… there's nothing we can do about it now," he said with a sigh, realizing his words could easily be turned on him, especially while he had been wallowing in guilt. "The best thing we can do we can do is try to stop Irene so that it doesn't happen to anyone else. And right now, your job is to get me to Irene's tree. So, please focus on the task at hand."

Trey nodded, looking downcast, as he led J.J. along the hidden path Irene had first shown him. Now, though, any landmarks J.J. might have used to reach the tree were gone. Irene's flower garden had spread, with brilliant flowers in glowing shades of electric blue, neon pink, sunny yellow, and fiery red carpeting the ground, bathing fifty yards in all direction in a dim, eerie light. The flowers spread outwards from a single, central tree, the largest and oldest tree in the forest, which Irene had identified as hers. And standing near the base of the tree was Irene herself.

The dryad slowly turned to face the pair, and Trey immediately hid behind J.J., who put his arm up protectively. In a low voice, he said, "You should go hide."

"There's no point," Irene said in a voice that had come to resemble a whispering wind with a mystical quality to it. "I heard you both coming from a mile off. With these plants at my command, I have eyes everywhere in my forest. I merely have to listen to the heartbeat of the Earth to find you. There's nowhere for you to hide. You might as well just surrender that boy to me."

"And what do you plan on doing with him?" J.J. asked evenly, still keeping Trey behind him.

"A bit of righteous retribution is in order, I think," Irene said serenely. "He still does not respect nature. It's a lesson he's going to have to learn painfully, as merely talking has not persuaded him to stop harming the forest."

"I'm pretty sure you've convinced him that nature can be scary," J.J. said drily, sweeping his arm around the forest. Behind him, Trey nodded vigorously.

"Empty promises. He will return as soon as you are no longer protecting him," Irene said calmly. "And I should address you as well, interloper. I merely wish to protect this forest; I am harming no one that does not deserve it, and I have only raised defenses around the perimeter. I have not attacked anyone. So why have you intruded on my domain?"

"Because that D-former you're using is dangerous, both to you and to everyone else," J.J. said. "And I was hoping that, one more time, I could persuade you to give it up."

"You cannot," Irene said simply. "I require its power in order to protect the forest."

"Yeah… I kinda figured you'd say that," J.J. sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Trey. "I'm going to leave you unguarded for a few seconds," he whispered. "Even if what she says is true, you should still find cover. Like behind a rock. I think she can only control plants, not stones."

"R-right," Trey stammered, and he scampered away from J.J. to crouch behind a large boulder. J.J. turned back to Irene, narrowing his eyes as he put his hand on the blue D-former again.

"Let's end this quickly," he said softly, giving the jewel a spin.

 **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and once more a sapphire gem surrounded J.J. before he disappeared. J.J. crouched and immediately sprinted at the dryad, but as soon as he got close, she raised up her hand, and her body was surrounded by thorny vines. J.J. skidded to a halt, and tried to dodge around the vines, but before he could, another vine sprang up behind him and grabbed his left ankle, finding him immediately even though he was invisible. Thorns sprang forth from the vine, impaling J.J.'s foot and heel, and he let out a yell of pain, his leg giving out beneath him. The vine lifted him into the air and tossed him away. J.J. flew through the air and hit a nearby tree with a dull thud, collapsing into the leaves as his invisibility timed out. J.J. groaned as he slowly pushed himself up, shaking his head while Irene stood with her arms folded, wearing an unimpressed expression.

"I just explained to you that I can find you anywhere in this forest. Even if you're invisible," Irene said. "That trick isn't going to work twice."

J.J. struggled to his feet as he pushed himself slowly into a standing position, but he winced as he tried to put weight on his left leg. With his foot half-mangled, he knew he wouldn't be able to run at her again. He reached to his belt and pulled out his diary, canceling his transformation from Thief Class and reverting back to his Adventurer Class. He flipped to his stat page and saw that his health bar was at less than half. No surprise, as he'd been fighting constantly for the past hour or so, and in the class that had the lowest defense too. He was lucky he hadn't sustained more damage.

"Irene, please," J.J. implored her as he put the diary back on his belt and began slowly limping towards her. "I really don't want to fight you, and you've already said you don't want to hurt anyone. I believe that. I just want you to stop holding the forest hostage and to give up your D-former! Look around you! Is this really what you wanted your forest to be? An abomination of nature, twisted to be a mockery of a bright and sunny place where people can be at peace?"

Irene hesitated at his words, but then her glowing green eyes fell on Trey, and she pointed at him. Trey flinched. "So long as people like him exist, I can't just give up peacefully," Irene said sadly.

"Alright, forget him for a moment, then," J.J. said. "What about people who just want to visit the forest and enjoy its beauty? What about Kelsie? You liked her! Yet she still got hurt because of you!"

"That's fine," Irene shrugged. "Death is just another part of nature and life. If she dies because of me, then I've just helped nature take its course."

J.J. froze where he stood, completely stunned. He stared at Irene silently for several long moments before whispering in a dangerously low voice, "What did you say?"

"If the girl dies, she dies," Irene repeated, smirking at J.J.

J.J. felt a slow anger start to simmer in his chest. He had been wrestling with guilt and worry over Kelsie for the entire day, yet Irene could so callously dismiss her injuries as simply a part of life? He knew that it was just the D-former talking, yet J.J. felt an undeniable rage starting to build inside of him. This was no burning, mindless fury, though. Rather, it was a calm, quiet anger that provided J.J. with a sense of clarity. And as he realized the emotion he was experiencing, he was struck with an idea that brought a slight smile to his face.

J.J.'s hand slipped to the black D-former on his belt, and he gave it a quick spin. **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** the Driver shouted, and as chimes played, he was surrounded with a holographic opal-colored die, which spun around him before clearing to reveal his black-robed Mage Class, his staff held loosely in his hand. J.J.'s eyes fixated on the dryad before him as he let out a soft chuckle.

"I want to thank you," J.J. said softly, his voice quivering slightly with suppressed anger. "You see, this class that I'm using relies on emotion to cast spells. Over the past couple of days, I've experienced a wide range of emotions – joy, triumph, serenity, anger, sorrow, guilt, worry, fear. And yet, you just managed to hit a new chord, one that reminded me of an emotion that I haven't tapped into. And I think it might be just the emotion I need to cast a new element."

J.J. touched his staff to the ground, and around his feet, an icy mist began to swirl. The frozen cloud extended around him in a ten-foot circle, freezing everything around him in a light coating of frost. Irene's glowing eyes widened as J.J. chuckled softly again, as the mist slowly spread across the forest floor.

"That's what I thought. See, to cast ice spells, one needs to use the opposite of anger, but it still has to be an emotion with enough energy to provide the power needed for casting. And I just figured out which one I need. I'm sure you've heard of cold fury, right?" J.J. said with a smirk. "So, thank you. Thank you for being so dismissive of a person's life that you managed to push me so far past being angry that I've looped back around to being calm. Because now I know I can beat you down without holding back. I haven't used this form yet because usually it casts fire, and I didn't want to harm the forest. That said… ice can't exactly burn down the forest, now can it? And if there's one thing that plants hate more than fire, it's the cold." J.J. smiled softly at Irene as he gave his staff a little twirl before holding it out in front of him like a spear. "I hope you built a greenhouse somewhere in this forest, Irene. Winter is coming."

Irene stared at J.J. silently for a long moment, then raised her hand and pointed her thorny fingers at J.J. Without a word, wooden spears shot out of her fingertips towards him. With his mobility hampered, J.J. knew he couldn't dodge, but in this form, he didn't need to. He swung his staff upward in a sharp motion, and ice shot up from the circle around his feet, solidifying into a six-inch sheet which the thorns bounced off of harmlessly. J.J. smirked grimly behind his mask as he lowered the ice with another motion of his staff and began walking slowly towards Irene, struggling not to limp.

Irene flinched at his slow approach, but brought her hand up again and surrounded J.J. on all sides with thorny vines that whipped towards him. J.J., however, slammed his staff on the ground, mimicking what Peter had done as a golem, and ice spread from the impact site and spread to the vines. The plants slowly stopped writhing as the ice took hold of them, and as J.J. moved past them, the went immobile before shattering into pieces.

"How…?" Irene asked in a whisper.

"Come to think of it, ice is probably even more effective against living plants than fire would be," J.J. contemplated as he continued approaching the stunned dryad. "Think about it chemically for a second. Those plants must need a lot of water to maintain their flexibility. Fire might burn them, but it'd take a while. Ice, however, would freeze the water in them solid, even faster than it would with normal plants. Basically, ice is the element you're weakest against."

Irene took a step backwards, putting her hand on her tree. J.J. immediately recognized it as the same move she had used to escape during their last battle. Bringing his staff up quickly, he unleashed a blast of freezing air and water at the dryad, and her hand was frozen to the tree. The woman let out a scream as the frost bit into her skin, clutching her wrist as the cold burned her.

"Please stop!" she shrieked.

"I offered you that chance," J.J. said quietly. "And while I'd love to accept your surrender, if I did that now, you'd just run off. I'm honestly sorry, Irene. I don't want to hurt you, but I don't see another way to deal with this now."

Irene looked at him fearfully, and then her eyes moved past him. She suddenly raised her hand, saying in a silky voice, "Well… if ice is my weakness, then based on how you've been acting, I know yours too." From behind him, he could hear more vines erupting out of the ground.

"What, you mean that I couldn't handle someone else getting hurt because of me? So you're going to go after Trey instead?" J.J. said calmly without turning around. "I figured you might do something like that. So I took precautions."

J.J. suddenly swung around, pointing his staff towards where Trey was crouching behind the rock, and he let out a slow breath. By now, the mist he had released when he had first transformed had crept over to where Trey was. He clutched his staff briefly, and a dome of ice sprang out from the white mist, surrounding Trey, who looked around in fright and pressed his hands against the transparent sheet. However, the vines surrounding him couldn't break the barrier, and in fact seemed to shy away from it instinctively.

J.J. turned back around to face Irene, who was staring at him with a mixture of fury and fear. "My teacher, Tristan, has been trying to tell me over the past few days that I need to keep an eye on my surroundings, and I think I finally get what he meant," J.J. explained as he resumed his slow walk towards Irene. "In a battle, it's not enough to just look around and figure out how you can use your environment. You also need to figure what the other person is going to do. Plus, you need to keep track of anyone else in the area, and the influence they can have on the battle. My focus was too narrow. So again, thank you Irene. You've really helped me a lot today."

"Shut up!" Irene shrieked at him, raising both hands as vines tore out of the ground and rose twenty feet into the air, thorns raining down on him from above. J.J., however, simply surrounded himself with another dome of ice, and the thorns ricocheted off the barrier harmlessly.

"And as thanks, I'm going to help you out in return," J.J. said softly, putting his hand on the black D-former. "And the best way I can help you is by getting rid of that D-former for you."

J.J spun the black D-former in the opposite direction he usually did, swiping his thumb to the left, and his Driver shouted out, **"Critical!"** A black die expanded outwards from his belt, shattering the icy dome around him, the shards of ice impacting against the thorns surrounding him and freezing them before they broke into pieces, falling around J.J. in frozen pieces. The black die surrounding him concentrated itself into the tip of his staff, and a freezing mist began to billow from the tip, swirling around J.J.'s hands as he pointed the staff at Irene. He slowly exhaled, then released the energy that had collected in his staff with a short yell.

A frigid combination of freezing water and small, icy crystals in the shape of snowflakes erupted from J.J.'s staff, propelled towards Irene in a stream that impacted her with the force of a fire hose, while an arctic wind propelled it all at her in a howling torrent. Irene's screams could barely be heard above the rush of energy, and J.J. held the staff firmly in both hands to keep from being blown backwards from the sheer force that was being directed at the woman. He held the stream for fifteen seconds before his energy ran out, and he gasped out as he sagged, exhausted.

Irene's body was now completely encased in ice, with icicles hanging off her limbs and mist still swirling around her. J.J. pulled his diary off his belt, reverting to Adventurer Class as he did, and he quickly flipped to her stat's page. To his annoyance, however, he saw that she still had a bit of health left. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, he thought to himself, as he'd spent most of his energy defending rather than attacking her. He'd used a Critical on her while she was nearly at full health.

J.J. briefly thought about finishing her with a Critical Kick, but as soon as he tried to put a bit of weight on his ankle, he knew that doing so would just do more damage to his leg if he tried. Thus, he figured he would use the other finishing move available to his base class. Putting his hand on the central amber D-former, he gave it a spin to the left, and once again the shout of **"Critical!"** filled the forest as he was surrounded by an amber twenty-sided die.

Unlike his Critical Kick, the die shrank and spread across his short sword, bathing it in an amber light. J.J. gripped the sword tightly and approached Irene, who watched him wide-eyed through her icy prison. In a soft voice, J.J. said, "Don't worry. This is as precise a Critical as I can manage."

Bringing his sword up, in a fencing stance, he let out a short yell and stabbed the blade into her, cutting through the ice like butter and piercing her wooden flesh, though he stopped before he pierced too deep into her body. Like with his Critical Kick, the glowing amber light coalesced into a pane that slowly began to spread across her body, fracturing her wooden skin like glass.

As the cracks began to turn emerald green, J.J. turned his back to her and pulled his diary off his belt. He flipped it open to her stats page and watched as her health bar drained to zero, and as Irene let out a last scream, he snapped the diary shut as the ice surrounding her melted off of her body and her dryad form shattered from existence. Behind him, he heard Irene collapse into the brilliant flowers surrounding her tree.

J.J. turned back around and saw both her stats page and her D-former lying on the ground. He began limping towards the die first, but as he drew close, a figure suddenly dove past him from the branches above him, cackling as it did. J.J. swore and swung his sword at it, but the Fool wasn't even grazed by his blade as he swooped in and grabbed the emerald D-former, gazing at it like a precious stone.

"Oooh, she indulged in her power quite a bit! Nearly achieved Apotheosis, she did!" the Fool giggled. "Almost a shame she didn't, but oh well. We can simply tell the Seraph what happened. The master always forgives us, so long as we bring back a prize!"

"Dammit, what do you want with those jewels?!" J.J. demanded, stumbling towards the Fool, who gave him an almost pitying look. "And what's Apotheosis?"

"If it keeps fighting, it will find out eventually!" the Fool assured him with a giggle. "We must say this play was even more entertaining than the last one! It isn't often that in one day, we get to see the summer turn to spring, and then winter! A shame we could not see autumn as well, but we cannot have everything. It may take the page as its payment for another wonderful show!" the Fool cackled. "We look forward to its next performance!"

Before J.J. could move – even if he'd been able to do more than limp weakly – the clown darted off through the trees, its mocking laughter fading into the distance. J.J. let out a sigh and pulled his D-former out of his diary, powering down, before replacing it and slipping the diary back into his pocket. Before him, Irene groaned and stirred, slowly pushing herself up.

"Wha…?" she asked groggily, looking down at the flowers she was laying in. As she watched, they began to turn brown, withering rapidly, before dissolving into slimy piles of black vegetable matter. J.J. wrinkled his nose as Irene slowly pushed herself up, wiping the sludge off of her clothing as she muttered, "Where… am I?"

"You don't recognize your own forest?" J.J. asked, gazing around at the trees. All the plants Irene had made were similarly dissolving, making the woods look as if they were melting. The leaves above them began to fall in thick, rotting clumps that smacked against the ground with wet splats. Thankfully, the spikes and traps Irene had grown were undergoing the same process, splintering before dissolving into sawdust.

"I… why does it feel like a lot of time has passed?" Irene asked blearily. "I vaguely remember being angry about something… and then…." Suddenly, her eyes widened in horror. "Did I… hurt someone?"

J.J. knelt in front of her, his voice gentle as he put his hand on her shoulder. "Yes and no. There's a girl who got hurt while we were fighting and is in the hospital right now. It wasn't just your fault she got injured. I'm also partially to blame for her condition."

"Oh God," Irene whimpered, burying her face in her muddy hands. "If I killed her…!"

"Thankfully, the doctors are saying she'll be alright in a bit," J.J. soothed her. He was struck by the irony that he was the one comforting someone who was blaming themselves for injuring someone with their supernatural powers. In a way, saying the words out loud to someone else made them sink in more for him, and helped clear his conscience a bit. He still felt guilty, but by forcing himself to say them aloud – even to someone else – he was forcing himself to acknowledge that he wasn't solely to blame, and that he could have hope that things were going to get better.

"But that doesn't change what I did!" Irene cried. "I don't… how am I supposed to live with myself?!"

"Well… you can acknowledge what you did, and try to fix it," J.J. suggested. "Thankfully, no one else really got hurt, except for those kids who were bullying you. One of whom you should thank. I might not have found you without his help."

"Yeah, I'm not thanking them for anything," Irene said shortly, sighing as she looked up at J.J. "But I do want to atone for this mess. What would you suggest I do?"

"For one, don't ever use a D-former again," J.J. said firmly. Irene nodded quickly in agreement. "As for how you can make it up…why not clean up your mess?" he suggested. He motioned around to the forest, which was now half-covered in black sludge.

Irene stared around the woods, then slowly looked back at him. "I… suppose I did do more harm to the forest than anyone else, didn't I?" she said sheepishly. "As a conservationist, I should be the one to fix it, right?"

"Exactly," J.J. said with a firm nod. "And I know someone who can help you," he added, motioning for Irene to follow him.

Trey was still standing in the block of ice J.J. had surrounded him in when they found him. As they approached, he began banging on the clear walls and screaming for J.J. to release him. J.J. and Irene couldn't help but trade grins, and J.J. quickly transformed briefly into his Mage Class and pointed his staff at the ice. The block around Trey melted immediately, drenching the boy in freezing water, leaving him standing before them shivering and scowling.

"Took you long enough!" he snapped at J.J. as the writer powered down again. "I thought you were going to leave me there!"

"The ice would've melted eventually. It's warm today," J.J. said nonchalantly. "Anyways, Irene and I came to a decision. You're going to help her clean up the forest."

"…Why the hell would I do that?" Trey asked with an annoyed expression. "I already helped you find Irene. That should be enough."

"Yeah. You did one good thing," J.J. agreed. "So, we'll say that makes up for you stealing Irene's seeds. There's still the fact that you came back, tried to light the forest on fire, returned _again_ after that to try and torment Irene some more… you have a lot to make up for, Trey."

"And if I refuse?" he sneered.

"We can always turn you and your friends over to the cops for vandalism," J.J. said smugly. "I was just thinking we cut out the middleman and consider your helping Irene to be community service. Unless you'd rather the court system decide a punishment for you?"

Trey considered this for several long moments, weighing his options. However, he faltered when J.J. got tired of his stalling and began to glare at the boy, who held up his hands. "Alright, alright! Fine! You win! But… can I bring my friends with me?"

J.J. hesitated, glancing over at Irene, to see if she was fine being outnumbered by her tormenters. Irene, however, smiled lightly and shrugged. "Sure. The more help we have, the better. I'll also call in a couple favors, and if you're lucky, we'll have this place cleaned up in a couple weeks. You can start tomorrow at six in the morning."

"What?!" Trey cried, but when J.J. glared at him again, the teen reluctantly relented. "Fine," he sighed. "I'm going to go home and… sleep, apparently. I'm gonna have to set an alarm…."

As Trey stalked off, J.J. glanced at Irene. "You sure you're going to be alright with them? I can stop by and drag them out of bed if you need me to-"

"I'll be fine," Irene assured him. "They're my problem to deal with now. You've done enough. And you look like you're about to collapse anyways. You don't need more stress."

"You've got that right. I should…." J.J. was about to say that he should go look after Kelsie, but a wave of fatigue washed over him. He stumbled back a step and leaned against a tree, holding his head in one hand. Irene approached him, a concerned look on her face, but J.J. waved her off.

"I should… get some rest as well," J.J. said slowly. For the first time in over a day, the adrenaline he had been running on had left his system, and he was exhausted. "If you need any help, let me know, though," he added.

"Will do. Don't strain yourself too much, Kamen Rider," Irene said.

"Don't call me that," J.J. replied easily, tossing her a wave as he walked out of the forest and into the bright noon sunlight.

* * *

That evening, J.J. was sitting at one of the tables in Gary's tavern, typing furiously on his laptop, when Gwen and Tristan came bursting into the tavern, startling everyone. J.J. glanced up from his computer, and when he saw the pair, he gave them an expectant look.

"We figured we'd find you here," Gwen said, hurrying over to him. "Kelsie's up, and she seems to be doing well."

J.J. let out a slow sigh of relief as he lowered the lid of his laptop, putting his face in his hands. "Thank god for that," he said softly, rubbing his eyes.

"The doctors said she was asking around for you," Gwen continued taking a seat across from him. "They were surprised that you weren't in the lobby. Do you want to go see her now?"

"It's already late," J.J. said with a slight smile as he opened the lid of his laptop again. "And while I'm touched that she wants to see me, she should spend some time with her parents first. They must have been a thousand times more worried about her than I was, and right now, she needs them a lot more than she needs me."

"Is that why you are here now?" Tristan asked. "You were only present at the hospital for a short while after your battle."

"Partially. Plus, as you said, I wasn't doing anyone any good just hanging around the hospital room worrying," he said with a soft chuckle. "All I was doing was stressing myself and everyone else out. Right now, I can't afford to be tired or distracted when the next Diemon attack could happen at any moment. I hate to say it, but taking care of myself is just as important as looking after others, so long as I'm the only person the city has who can fight the Diemons."

"Indeed," Tristan said, glancing away with a look of regret.

"And it's not as if I can't go see her later J.J. added as he pushed up the lid of his laptop again and resumed typing, though he kept his eyes on his companions. "I'll drop in on her sometime tomorrow or the day after. Like you've been saying, she's not going anywhere. All I really wanted was assurance that she was going to recover."

"Which you have now," Gwen said with a triumphant smile.

"Yes, and thank you for that," J.J. said, smiling warmly up at Gwen. "I really appreciate you staying with me the last couple of days, and then hanging around the hospital after I had to go. You even stayed after I came here. I'm really grateful for that."

"No problem," Gwen said with a smile. "We each help out each other in our own way, right? You're the one with the hard job. Fighting monsters? I'd say hanging around a hospital room is pretty easy compared to that. Besides, I didn't have anything else to do today, and I got to play with some of the kids in the sick ward while we were waiting. I really didn't mind."

"And I was given the opportunity to learn more of your language with the time afforded me, so it was not unproductive," Tristan added. "It is merely a relief to see you have recovered your usual demeanor to a certain degree."

"Making sure Irene was alright helped. And it felt good to rescue someone without mucking it up. Maybe that's what I needed," J.J. said with a shrug. "Anyways, no point dwelling on it now, right? Anything you two wanna do this evening?"

"Did you have a new session planned?" Gwen asked hopefully. J.J. chuckled, shutting down his laptop.

"Call our group to see if they can come," J.J. answered her, a glint in his eyes. "There's still a princess you all need to rescue."

Gwen beamed and walked off to get her phone. Tristan gave J.J. a sidelong glance, however, as she walked off.

"Your shoulders are still sagging, page," Tristan remarked once Gwen was out of earshot. "It would seem you've finally started to feel the weight of your duty."

"Mmhm. You don't just bounce back from an experience like this," J.J. said solemnly, gazing at Gwen's back. "The fact that I injured someone is still weighing on me, don't get me wrong. But moping about it is only going to make life harder on those around me that care about me, right? So might as well smile and enjoy the moments of peace and small victories that I can."

"You are finally starting to sound like a true warrior, page," Tristan said solemnly. He stood up and put a hand on J.J.'s shoulder before walking over to the gaming table. J.J. was left to stew over the way Tristan had said that while he waited for their gaming group to arrive, which he sincerely hoped would take his mind off things, if only for the rest of the night.


	14. Session 14

**Session 14**

"Hey kid! How're you feeling?" J.J. asked as he slipped into Kelsie's room in the hospital, carrying a bundle of flowers. As he walked in, Kelsie's face split into a wide grin, though her mother, Karen, glared at him as he approached.

"J.J.!" Kelsie exclaimed, holding her arms out to him. He approached her and gave her a very brief one-armed hug, partially because he was afraid that if he held it, her mother would go for his throat.

"What're you doing here?!" Karen snarled, practically baring her teeth in his direction. "You weren't invited, and I don't want you around my daughter! Especially since you're the one who put her in the hospital in the first place!"

J.J.'s smile faltered as her words hit him like a kick in the chest. "I-" he began weakly, looking away.

"I invited him, honey," Sam explained, stepping into the room after him and putting his hand on J.J.'s shoulder. "I felt that he should have the chance to say hello to Kelsie. Especially since I know that she's been wanting to see him. Haven't you, sweetie?"

"Yep!" Kelsie agreed, beaming at J.J. "What took you so long to come see me? Did mom keep you away?" she added, shooting her mother an accusing glance that was just as venomous as the glare Karen was directing at him. J.J. figured that particular look just ran in the family.

"No, but if I knew he was coming, I would've told him to leave," Karen snapped. "You didn't even ask me, Sam!"

"It's been three days, Karen," Sam replied, his voice gentle, but his expression firm. "I'm sure J.J.'s been worrying himself sick over what happened, and he's been gracious enough to give Kelsie the space she needs to recover. Just saying hello to her isn't going to do any harm, and it's not like him being here is going to lead to a monster jumping in through the window to attack her. You need to stop blaming him for what happened."

"No," Karen replied bluntly.

"Enough, mom," Kelsie said in a growl. "This is my room right now, and I want to see J.J."

Karen's eyes widened, and she sputtered, "How _dare_ you talk to me like that?! I am your _mother_ , young lady!"

"Mr. Shaw? Mrs. Shaw?" a doctor said hesitantly, poking her head into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could speak with you? I wanted to go over some things."

Karen paused, looking like she wanted to continue arguing, but when Sam narrowed his eyes at her, she reluctantly pushed herself out of her chair. "You can visit her for as long as it takes us to talk to the doctor," she warned J.J. "Make this visit quick and get out."

Behind her back Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, before shooting J.J. a smile to assure him that threat wouldn't be enforced. J.J. responded with a grin as Kelsie's parents left the room, leaving the two alone.

"So, seriously, how've you been feeling?" J.J. asked anxiously, taking a seat beside Kelsie's bed as the girl sat up a bit more.

"I'm doing alright," she shrugged. "Still have some lingering numbness in my legs, but the doctors said that's to be expected. At least the pain is gone. They said they might be able to get me out of here pretty soon."

J.J. swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump in his throat at that news. However, he forced a smile at her and nodded. "Glad to hear you're doing better then. You really had me worried."

"Oh, stop," Kelsie said, swatting at him lightly in a way that reminded him of Gwen. "I've put up with enough of that from my mom over the last few days. I don't need you crying over me too."

"Yeah… I guess you'd be sick of it, huh?" J.J. said with a wry grin. "Sorry. Is your mother always this high-strung?" he added, lowering his voice as he shot a look at the door.

"Yeah, but she's been worse lately," Kelsie sighed, settling her head back against the pillows, her blond hair fanning out behind her. "She's been treating me like I'm made of glass, which isn't what I want. I just want to get out of this bed. I'm not hurt that badly."

"You can't really blame her for worrying about her daughter," J.J. explained, trying to play devil's advocate. He'd certainly done enough worrying himself over the past few days, and her mother had to be ten times more anxious than he was.

"Whatever. I don't really want to talk about that now," Kelsie sighed, before beaming up at him. "You beat Irene, though, right?"

"Yep," J.J. said, pulling out his diary and opening it on her bed. Kelsie grinned and sat up a bit more, leaning over so that she could see the pages. J.J. flipped to Irene's page, showing her the artistic sketch of the dryad, as well as her stats.

"That's awesome!" Kelsie exclaimed. "How'd you do it?"

"Ice," J.J. said simply. He spent the next few minutes going over his journey through the corrupted forest while Kelsie listened intently, her eyes wide and a fierce grin on her lips. When he got to the part about how he had used cold rage to unlock his ice abilities, he told her, "What set me off was her brushing off how you'd gotten hurt. Just thinking about that got me more angry than I'd ever been."

"So… in a way, I helped you?" Kelsie asked breathlessly.

"You definitely did, yeah," J.J. agreed, smiling sadly at her. "Though I wish it hadn't been because you got hurt."

"Oh, I don't care!" Kelsie crowed, waving off his concern. "I got to help Kamen Rider Page! That's so cool!"

Despite himself, J.J. found himself smiling as well. Her enthusiasm was infectious. "Well, next time you want to help me, try doing it by not getting injured, alright?"

"I'll try," Kelsie laughed, sitting back against her pillows and looking up at the ceiling. "But I wish there was more I could do to help."

"That's sweet of you, but if you really want to help me? Focus on getting well," J.J. said. "I'd have had a much easier time during the last battle if I wasn't so worried about you."

Kelsie looked away with a soft sigh. They sat in silence for a few moments as the muffled voices of the doctor and her parents came in through the door. Then, suddenly, Karen shrieked, "What do you mean she might never-?!"  
"Karen! Shush!" Sam cried hurriedly. Her voice immediately died down.

J.J. and Kelsie traded looks, and she nodded at the door with a pleading look on her face. J.J. nodded and slowly rose from his seat, creeping over to the door with a feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. He slowly opened the door a crack and strained to hear.

"-reports suggest that the damage to her spinal column was deeper than we previously anticipated," a young doctor was explaining. "The thorn pierced her spinal cord, a bit above her waist, which is why she's been experiencing numbness in her legs lately. Now, there's a chance that the damage could heal, but it will take several months and a lot of physical therapy. If it goes poorly, however, there's a chance that Kelsie may never walk again."

J.J. felt a jolt of shock run through him, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wall next to the door. All the guilt that he'd been getting over for the past few days came rushing back all at once, slamming into him with the force of a truck. Outside, he could hear Karen sobbing.

"Is there anything we can do?" Sam asked softly. "Kelsie's a very talented runner, one of the stars of her track team. We were hoping we could secure a scholarship for her to get into college."

 _Sure, pile on the tragedy_ , J.J. thought bitterly, trying to ignore Kelsie's curious gaze burning into the back of his head.

"There's a small chance she could recover, yes," the doctor said soothingly. "If physical therapy goes well, and we try some experimental treatments, we might be able to restore function to her legs. However, like I said, it will require months of treatment, and even if they're successful, her recovery period will be even longer. To get her back up to her pre-injury status will probably take a couple of years. If you're willing to do that, we can put her on a regimen immediately to try and treat her."

"Yes, let's do that," Sam said firmly. "I don't care what the cost is. We're going to do everything we can to make sure our daughter can walk again."

"As you say, sir," the doctor said, and J.J. immediately heard footsteps heading for the door. He quickly pushed himself away from the door and scrambled back into his seat, trying to look normal.

"What hap-?" Kelsie asked softly, but J.J. put a finger to his lips and nodded towards the door. The girl fell silent, but continued to look at him quizzically as her parents walked into the door, ashen-faced and somber.

"You! You've had enough time in here," Karen snapped at J.J., who flinched away from her. "Get out. We need to talk with our daughter."

"Karen! Be nice," Sam admonished her. However, he similarly nodded at J.J. "But yes, J.J., would you mind giving us some time alone?"

"Of course," J.J. said, pushing himself up without protest. Kelsie gave him a gloomy pout as he stepped away.

"Can you come back tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," J.J. assured her with a slight smile. "Provided that's alright with your parents."

"I don't-!" Karen began, but Sam cut her off.

"Yeah, definitely, come by tomorrow," Sam agreed as J.J. moved past him. He tugged J.J.'s sleeve and pulled him a bit closer, adding in a soft voice, "Bring a gift, if you could?"

"Yes sir," J.J. assured him. Glancing back, he added with a grin at Kelsie, "I'll be by soon enough, kiddo. Stay strong, okay?"

"…Sure?" she said hesitantly, looking back and forth between her parents. "What's going on?"

"Ah… we have something to tell you, sweetie," Karen began, shooing J.J. out the door. The writer picked up his pace and closed the door behind him, closing his eyes and sighing in exasperation as he left.

"Things just keep going from bad to worse, don't they?" he muttered under his breath, making his way out of the hospital, intending to head to Gary's tavern. It was late enough in the day, and he needed a drink. While he didn't drink often, today was one of those days where he wanted to drown his sorrows a little bit.

As he walked into the lobby, however, he saw someone being wheeled into the hospital on a stretcher, with one of the responders yelling, "-get them into surgery, now! We've got a venom sample, so we need to make an antidote as quick as possible! We might have more incoming! There's a monster downtown that's-!"

J.J. let out a groan, burying his face in his hand. "Of course," he muttered as he trudged over to the receptionist. She looked up at him curiously as he nodded towards the retreating patient.

"Excuse me, miss?" J.J. asked, forcing a smile. "Where did that ambulance come from? They mentioned a monster attack, and on my way home, I wanted to give that area as wide of a berth as possible."

"Hang on," the receptionist said, tapping on her computer while J.J. drummed his fingers on the counter impatiently. "Ah… says that they got the call from the business district. So just steer clear of that area."

"Thank you!" J.J. said quickly, turning and running out the door towards his bike. Tired as he was, he was intent on not letting anyone else get hurt the way Kelsie had.

Revving his engine, J.J. sped down the road, weaving in and out of traffic, which grew steadily thicker as he traveled deeper into the city. He could already see in the opposite lane that the cars were struggling to get away from the city, some honking loudly and others driving up onto the shoulder to try and speed by in a panic. As the traffic grew thicker, J.J. grimly smiled, as it just meant he was heading in the right direction.

Once he was close enough that he could start to hear sirens, he drove into an alleyway and took a moment to kill his engine to avoid drawing suspicion. With a sigh, he pulled out his dairy, opening it for a moment as a thought struck him.

"Quick question," he said softly to the diary. "It sounds like we're dealing with a Diemon that uses poison. That's not something I've gone up against yet. If I get struck with a fang or something, will it just have a draining effect on the suit, or will I actually wind up poisoned?"

 _If the venom does not pierce the suit, it will merely drain the suit of its integrity,_ the diary explained. _However, should a method of delivery pierce the suit and find its way into your skin, you personally will suffer the effects. I would recommend simply not allowing your opponent to inflict any damage upon you, as repairing the suit will be a lengthy process if I must counteract the poison._

" _Can_ you recover, though?" J.J. asked softly.

 _In your previous battles, I needed time to repair your suit to full health,_ the diary said. _With poison, it will take longer, but it can be done. I insist, however, that you work to minimize damage._

"No, this time, I think I'll go charging in headfirst. I won't even bother with blocking or dodging," J.J. said, rolling his eyes. "Really test my defensive stats."

 _Please do not,_ his quill wrote, the font almost lazy, like it was imitating J.J.'s sarcastic tone.

"I'll try and keep the damage to a minimum. Henshin!" J.J. shouted, holding the open book up to his cheek as his Driver appeared around his waist. He snapped his book shut and slid it into the belt buckle of the Driver, before giving the central amber D-former a spin.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** his D-former shouted into the alleyway, and as trumpets blared, he was surrounded by the holographic D-20, which began to spin around him rapidly as his body was covered in leather. When the spinning stopped, his quill flew back into his book, and J.J. mounted his bike again, hurrying the last little ways towards the sounds of the sirens.

The police had already set up a perimeter around the plaza of an outdoor shopping mall, in a scene very reminiscent of J.J.'s fight with Agni. As J.J. pulled up and stepped off his bike, one of the officers looked up, and his face brightened. "I was wondering when you'd show up!"

J.J. blinked at the man's familiar attitude as he ran over, but then he noticed the nametag, and he recognized Sergeant Eaton from his fight with Agni. The man held out his hand, which J.J. shook, and he let out a slight chuckle despite himself.

"I wish I could say it was good to see you again," the sergeant said, clapping J.J. on the shoulder as he led him forward through the police line. "As I'm sure you've heard, we've got a bit of a situation here. You should really give us your number at least so we can call you in case something comes up."

"I'd rather not," J.J. admitted. "I appreciate that you're trying to keep me in the loop, but if I was constantly on call, I think that'd kill me. Anyways, this time there's something having to do with poison…?"

"Yeah. We don't know who this guy is, but apparently he's got some ability to shoot off poison darts or quills or something," the sergeant explained as he crouched behind a car. J.J. did the same. "We've tried reasoning with him, but he's been saying he doesn't want anything we're offering."

"Anyone else with him?" J.J. asked.

"Yeah. He's accompanied by some sort of… harlequin figure?" Sergeant Eaton said, frowning and shaking his head. When J.J. let out a sigh, he asked, "That sound familiar?"

"More than I'd like it to," J.J. growled. "Question, though. Do you all know how the Di-… monsters are created in the first place?"

"We had reports that it had something to do with jewels?" the sergeant said uncertainly.

"Yeah. Do me a favor after this fight," J.J. said. "Try setting up some sort of anti-drug ad about not using the jewels."

"Our higher-ups don't want us doing that," the sergeant sighed. "They said they wanted more information about this crisis before they put out bulletins, so they don't spread around misinformation."

"Gotta love bureaucracy. Alright," J.J. sighed, pushing himself up and stepping around the car. "I'll see what I can do about this guy."

"Right. Everyone get back, give him some space!" the sergeant barked. The police began to withdraw a bit as J.J. began to walk towards the central plaza.

At first, J.J. didn't see the Diemon he was expected to deal with, but as he drew closer, a bouncing figure caught his attention, which J.J. immediately recognized as the Fool, and from there his gaze was drawn to the monster beside it. The Diemon was a hulking seven-foot beast, smaller than some of the Diemons he had faced, and lacking some of the girth. Its skin was a polished golden color, with a flowing mane running from its head down its shoulders, accompanied by a flowing golden-brown beard. Its eyes were a deep, liquid bronze, and when its mouth opened, J.J. was greeted with the revolting sight of three rows of human-like teeth. The rest of its face was also eerily human, save for that unnerving mouth. Its body was humanoid, but covered in a thin coating of tawny fur, with hands ending in long feline claws. The Diemon's lower half was covered in much thicker curly hair, and it stood on a pair of leonine paws. Behind the Diemon swung a long tail, which ended in a brown ball that reminded J.J. of a cactus, with six-inch long ivory spines sticking out of it. The beast's eyes turned towards J.J., and as its gaze was drawn towards him, the Fool began cackling.

"Oooh, it showed up promptly this time!" the Fool taunted him, dancing around gleefully. "It must be itching for a fight!"

"Good," growled the Diemon in a deep voice. "So am I. I've heard about you on the news. Kaen Rider Page, isn't it? I was hoping I'd get a chance to have a go at you."

"Fool," J.J. said, giving the jester a casual nod as he approached the pair, his quill flying out of his belt and nestling itself in his hand. "This is a surprise, though. Usually you give me about a week to recover from my last fight."

"Ah, the whims of our lord cannot be stymied," the Fool sighed. "Were it up to us, we would still be resting too, but our lord gets what our lord wishes! And his wishes are the wishes of his people!"

"Enough!" the Diemon roared, crouching low as its golden eyes burned at J.J.'s slow approach. "You're the one who's been saving people, when they don't deserve to be saved."

"Oh, right, you're here too," J.J. commented loosely, giving the quill in his hand a little twirl as he raised an eyebrow at the Diemon. "So what's your story behind using a D-former? A disgruntled Social Darwinist who thinks that the weak should be culled? Or, no, wait. You're using poison spines, right? Did you want to become the world's greatest acupuncturist? Because I can tell you, putting people in the hospital isn't the best way to round up repeat customers."

"You mock me," the Diemon growled.

"Well, normally I'm more sympathetic," J.J. said, lowering his head lightly as he glared at the leonine figure. "But I've been racking my brain the entire way over here, and yet I can't find a single justifiable reason for poisoning people. So, please, explain your reasoning. Enlighten me. This should be good."

"What would you know about my life?" the Diemon growled at him as J.J. continued his calm approach, hoping to get in range while he was busy talking. "You would mock a dying man?"

"What, you're dying now?" J.J. scoffed. "You seem to be in pretty good health to me."

"I _was_ dying, before the Black Seraph came to me," the manticore snarled. "I was suffering from a horrible degenerative disease that was making my body waste away. I was in constant agony, trapped in a cage of my own flesh. However, at the time, I was still well enough to use the computer. Technology is amazing, you know. It let me remain connected to everyone around me, even while my body decayed. But do you know what I saw?"

"I'd imagine a lot of pop-ups offering you great deals on air fare to Hawaii," J.J. quipped.

"Everywhere I looked, people were complaining about their lives!" the manticore roared. "Their petty little suffering paled in comparison to what I was going through! This girl whining about her boss making her come in to work extra hours! A man groaning about how he has to take time to go see his daughter's recital. Not one of them had a true reason to complain! Not one understood what true suffering is!"

"Mmhm. So you decided you'd make them suffer," J.J. concluded, narrowing his eyes at the Diemon.

"Of course. Just to give them some perspective," the manticore explained, sneering. "The Black Seraph approached me while I lay in my bed, dying, and he asked me the role I wished to play. When I told him that I wanted to be a teacher of sorts, he gladly imparted this power onto me. The jewel he gave me is miraculous. It instantly cured me of my ailment. I hadn't felt this good in five years! Do you know what that feels like, boy?" the manticore asked, looking almost misty-eyed. "It was like being reborn. I was more than happy to use this power he gave me to carry out my mission, and he asked nothing in return. The Black Seraph really is a savior." The manticore then looked down at J.J. and snarled, "And you're robbing people of the gift he gives!"

"Exactly what I've been saying," the Fool added, nodding enthusiastically.

"Spare me," J.J. snapped. "What, do you want me to apologize for stopping people who turn into monsters? You want me to feel remorse that I ended rampages that would have resulted in people getting hurt or killed? Bite me."

While he was responding, though, something that the Diemon said began nagging in the back of J.J.'s mind. The D-former healed him. J.J. didn't know the disease the man had been suffering, but he was willing to take his word that it had been severe. What's more, J.J. was a first-hand witness to their healing powers, as he'd been on the brink of death himself before the white angel had given him his own D-former. Once he'd received it, he'd felt good as new. Did that mean that the D-formers had inherent healing abilities? What were their limits? And… considering that Kelsie had just been injured, did that mean that if she was given a D-former, she could walk again?

Ruthlessly, J.J. suppressed that thought. That line of thinking was dangerous, and he wasn't willing to test his theory. For one, he imagined that it was just one more line of seduction the Black Seraph could use to create more Diemons. And regardless of their intentions, he knew that those that used D-formers – himself excluded – inevitably became Diemons themselves. He couldn't put Kelsie through that. Plus, the doctors were going to do what they could for her anyways, he told himself. Instead, he should concentrate on the problem he could solve.

J.J. clicked the bottom of his quill, and the pen extended out to become his feather-shaped saber, which he pointed at the Diemon before him. "I'm sorry that you suffered, but that hardly gives you the excuse to inflict pain on others," he said bluntly. "So, I'm going to ask you once, even though I know what the answer is: Will you give up your D-former without a fight?"

The Diemon sneered, and in response, whipped his tail around. As it did, J.J. heard one of the cops yell, "Take cover!"

J.J. immediately dove for a nearby tree, which he hid behind and made himself as small as possible. There was a sound like flachettes flying through the air, and then he heard something impact with the wood in front of him. J.J. peeked around the corner, and he was immediately greeted with the sight of several spikes embedded in the hard wood of the tree. Looking past the tree, he saw that the Diemon's tail was devoid of quills, but that they were slowly re-growing out of the bulb at the tip of the its tail.

J.J. slid back behind the tree and began formulating a plan. What he had in mind was risky, but he doubted that he could fight the Diemon at range. Mage Class would have been an effective option for a long-range shootout, especially now that he could control ice as defensive option, but the downside was the poison in the quills made a prolonged fight dangerous. Worse, since the Diemon didn't care about harming bystanders, he didn't want to risk injuring the cops with collateral damage, especially given the shotgun-like nature of the Diemon's attack.

His idea, however, would require precise timing, and he knew that he only had a few seconds to pull it off. However, he wanted to check one thing before he tried.

Once the spikes in the Diemon's tail stopped growing, J.J. assumed he was ready for another blast. He slowly stepped out from behind the tree, giving his sword a little twirl as he stared down the Diemon, jerking his head upward derisively as he did.

"What, is that it?" J.J. taunted. "I thought you were going to show me what pain was. I didn't even get scratched."

The Diemon snarled and whipped his tail around again, but this time J.J. was prepared. As soon as he began to swing his tail, he dove behind a low hedgerow, hiding behind the brickwork as the spines once again shot through the air. A tire popped on a police cruiser behind him, and he heard one of the officers shout at him, "Will you stop encouraging him?!"

J.J. ignored the woman, however, and peeked out over the edge of the hedges. His eyes were fixed on the Diemon's tail, and he began counting seconds under his breath. Twenty seconds later, the spines had regrown. J.J. chewed his bottom lip. That didn't give him much time, but he didn't have a better idea, so he figured that now was the best time to enact his plan.

Putting his hand on his black D-former, J.J. gave the jewel a spin, and he was surrounded by an ebony twenty-sided die as his Driver shouted, **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** Chimes began to ring in the air as he was re-dressed in black robes, his sword transforming into a staff. Once in his magical class, J.J. vaulted over the low wall and slowly began to walk towards the Diemon, who glared at him.

"Sloppy shooting," J.J. said. "My turn." He pointed his staff at the Diemon and let out a short cry. A fireball launched itself at the Diemon and impacted it squarely in the chest, hitting him with enough force to make him stumble backwards. J.J. continued to walk forward, letting off two more fireballs, one of which hit the Diemon in the shoulder, and the other which flew behind him and impacted harmlessly against the stone side of a building, dissipating without an explosion. The Diemon let out a roar of pain and swung his tail around again, sending the spikes once again shooting off in all directions.

Once the Diemon began attacking, J.J. slammed his staff into the ground, and an ice wall rose in front of him. The spikes pierced the ice, but didn't break through the other side. As soon as the spikes were stopped by the ice, he spun his blue D-former, and he began running before it had even begun surrounding him.

 **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** the Driver shouted, and as a saxophone began playing, J.J. charged the Diemon as his staff split into twin daggers. The Diemon began backing up as J.J. sprinted towards him, now clad in his blue jacket, and as soon as he was in range, he began furiously slashing at the Diemon. To the monster's credit, it was faster than it looked, and it was able to dodge J.J.'s attacks well enough to keep from getting more than glancing injuries. However, it was also off-balance, and J.J. pressed the attack while it was trying to regrow its spikes.

The entire time he was attacking, J.J. was counting the seconds in his head. Once he hit ten, he paused in his attack and spun the red D-former instead. The Diemon let out a yell of pain and was thrown backwards as J.J. was engulfed in a crystal formation a third time, this one ruby in color, as his Driver yelled, **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** War drums resounded off the walls as J.J.'s daggers became a heavy war-hammer and he was armored in the thicker splint mail of his most durable class.

He knew that in Thief Class, he likely wouldn't be able to dodge at close range if the Diemon decided to attack him, and the low defensive rating of that class would have made him a sitting duck. Thus, he'd only wanted to use Thief Class to get in close. Warrior Class was better suited for taking hits, and he was willing to sacrifice his speed in exchange for better armor. At this range, even if the Diemon got off one more volley of spines, he was willing to tank some damage if he could continue pressing the attack. The remaining few seconds he had were more than enough time for him to finish off the Diemon with Warrior Class's raw power. He hoped.

J.J. brought his hammer down hard, slamming it into the Diemon's shoulder, and he was immediately rewarded with a roar of pain from the monster. Without pausing, he used his momentum to spin around and slam the head of his hammer into its chest, knocking the Diemon backwards. J.J. planted his feet and tried to land a third blow, but by this point the Diemon had recovered its senses enough to fight back. Its long claws reached out and raked across J.J.'s chest, tearing into his armor, but it didn't do much damage, thankfully. Apparently, most of the Diemon's power was in its tail. Thus, J.J. brought the hammer back and bludgeoned it once again, this time across the face.

The Diemon whirled and let out a growl of pain as it held its jaw, but as J.J. tried to bring the hammer down on its head, the Diemon reached up and caught the weapon as it was coming down. J.J. watched its knees buckle a bit, but it was able to successfully block the attack and leave J.J. open for a counter. Before it could, however, J.J. responded by bringing his boot up and kicking the monster in the chest, breaking its hold on his hammer. The Diemon stumbled backwards, clutching its chest in pain, as J.J. had managed to kick it in the same spot where he'd struck it earlier with the hammer.

From the heavy, labored breathing of the leonine monster, he figured it must be low on health. If he could end this now, while it was still vulnerable, this would be the cleanest victory he'd ever had. J.J.'s hand once again dropped to his Driver, and he gave the red D-former another spin. **"Critical!"** the Driver shouted, and he was engulfed in a ruby crystal again. The Diemon tried to rake at him with its claws, but it bounced off, doing yet more damage to itself. The ruby coalesced on the head of J.J.'s hammer, engulfing it in bright red light. He knew he didn't have much time before the tail spikes had finished re-growing, so in this instance, a single, final blow was optimal for finishing the fight. Hence why he was using his Power Attack Critical instead of Great Cleave.

The Diemon cowered as J.J. brought the hammer up over his head, letting out a yell as he forcefully swung it downwards towards the stunned beast. Before it could land, however, J.J. let out a cry of pain as he felt something cut him across the back, disrupting his attack and making him stumble forward. Turning around, he saw the Fool standing behind him, shaking its head and brandishing its wooden sword at him.

"Ah, and here we were enjoying the show," the Fool sighed. "It has become a much better warrior, hasn't it? On the surface, that seemed to be a reckless, thoughtless rush, yet it planned every stage of that attack, didn't it? However, there's nothing more boring than a show that ends too quickly. And sadly, Dave over there hasn't fully embraced the power our master has given him. We must insist that you allow him to revel in his new form a while longer. We don't want a fight, but if we must… well, it already knows it can't win in a fight with us," the Fool sneered.

"Dammit!" J.J. hissed, glancing down at his hammer. He still had time, and his weapon was still glowing red. He could still get the attack off. J.J. brought his hammer up, intent on finishing his assault, but the Fool slithered in front of him and stabbed him in the chest with its wooden sword while his guard was open. J.J. felt as if he'd been hit in the sternum with a steel pole, and he was sent flying backwards, landing gracelessly on the grass with a low groan of pain.

"A shame, but we did warn it," the Fool sighed, looking over at the Diemon – Dave, apparently – who had finally regained his tail spikes.

"No!" J.J. hissed, pushing himself up and trying to charge the monster. Unfortunately, the Fool had pushed him back a good fifteen feet, more than enough room for Dave to swing his tail around again. Maybe if he had been in his Thief Class, J.J. might have been able to close the distance quickly enough to get a final strike in, but Warrior Class's slow speed worked against him. Dave's spikes exploded from the end of his tail, and as close as J.J. was, a few impacted against his armor, piercing deep into the lamellar-like material. Thankfully, most of it was absorbed by the thick plates protecting him, but he felt sharp pinpricks in his limbs as a couple of the quills penetrated the thinner material covering his arms and legs.

The quills themselves didn't hurt any more than a shot or a bee sting, but his limbs slowly became consumed with an agonizing burning sensation that began to spread outwards from the point of impact. J.J. began screaming in pain and dropped to one knee, clutching where he'd been stung, unable to support his weight anymore as the pain radiated across his left thigh, right calf, and right shoulder. It felt like lava was creeping beneath his skin. The Diemon stood over him, triumphantly smirking behind its flowing mane.

"Yes… that's what I wanted to see," he snarled as J.J.'s arms began twitching and spasming from the sheer pain. "Now you know the pain I felt. Imagine that pain for five straight years. That, boy, is what true suffering feels like. Do you understand?"

J.J. slowly looked up, speaking through gritted teeth. "I understand that you're in my range." The Diemon's eyes widened with surprise as J.J. forced his hand to close tightly around his hammer, and he brought it around for a final, hard strike that slammed into Dave's chest, sending him flying backwards. The Diemon roared with pain as he smacked into a wall behind him and crumpled to the ground. However, the pain J.J. was in had weakened his blow, as Dave's Diemon form didn't disintegrate, much to his irritation.

"And with that, I think that this performance has gone on long enough!" the Fool announced with a laugh, skipping forward to take Dave's arm. "We're leaving!"

Dave tried to shrug off the clown's grip, shaking his head as he tried to push himself up. "No! I can beat him!"

"That's not what you wanted, remember?" the Fool pointed out. "If you'd wanted to just kill it, you should have mentioned it to our master. What you truly want is to leave it writhing in utter agony, to feel the pain that you felt. You can't do that if it dies too quickly, now can you?" he asked.

Dave looked like he was about to protest, but the Fool tightened its grip on his arm, and the Diemon let out a whimper of pain. "Fine," he reluctantly agreed, pushing himself to his feet and smirking down at J.J., who had collapsed on the ground, unable to move his legs anymore thanks to the pain spreading through them. "I'm going to particularly enjoy knowing you're suffering, though," Dave growled. "And if you try to stop me again, it won't just end at pain."

"Big talk for someone who could only win because a clown stepped in and saved him," J.J. managed to shoot back between deep gasps for air. He was using sarcasm to try and stave off the urge to scream in pain. "Do you have to call the circus for backup every time you get in a bar fight too?"

The Fool cackled merrily at J.J.'s retort. "This is why we keep it alive!" he crowed. "It never fails to entertain! Give us another show soon!"

J.J. tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out, and he instead settled for rolling onto his back and staring up at the sky as the Fool took off, cackling with glee as he retreated with Dave. With his right arm twitching and spasming, he reached down to his belt and slowly unclipped his diary, reverting him to Adventurer Class. By this point, the poison had spread throughout his body, so even touching the diary with his fingertips felt like he was holding them down on a hot iron. He didn't even have the strength to scream. He managed to shakily push the diary open to his stats page, and he watched as the health bar of his suit dwindled down to zero as the poison finished working its way through the suit. Amber cracks began to appear along his suit, and they shattered a few moments later, his suit dissolving into fractals that disappeared in the air. He was left lying on the ground, untransformed, his identity now revealed to all the onlookers.

He could hear the cops muttering to each other as J.J.'s diary fell from his hand. His heart pounding loudly in his ears as pain continued to spread through his body. Over that, though, he heard things like, "That's who Kamen Rider Page is?" "He's just a kid!" "Can we get an ID on him? Take some fingerprints?"

"Alright, you all have jobs to do!" a voice shouted much more clearly over the crowd. "Get an ambulance up here! He's hurt!" Sergeant Eaton's face appeared in J.J.'s vision, and he said in a softer voice, "Don't worry, you're going to be alright. Bear with me. Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," J.J. snapped through clenched teeth, sighing as he laid his head back against the ground. "Guess my secret's out, huh?"

"Not as much as you might think, don't worry," the sergeant assured him. "We've taken to clearing out camera crews and the media during these attacks, so your face isn't going to be plastered all over the evening news or anything. Plus, you've done so much for us, the least we can do in return is give you a little privacy if we can. My squad won't mention this to anyone. Will you?" Sergeant Eaton added to the police milling around.

"No sir!" came the prompt replies. Despite himself, J.J. let out a short laugh, which devolved into a coughing fit as that short burst of laughter touched off nerves in his chest that had been affected by the poison.

"Try to relax, and don't move around," the sergeant said. "The poison will just spread faster if you do. Here we go," he added, and J.J. heard sirens behind him. "The paramedics will take it from here."

The next several minutes were a blur in J.J.'s memory. He was vaguely aware of screaming in pain again as he was lifted off the ground and placed on a gurney, his body twitching uncontrollably until he was strapped down. The Velcro keeping him in place cut into his skin like burning razors, but eventually that pain subsided into a dull throbbing sensation that he could endure. A mask was placed over his face shortly afterwards, and he inhaled some sort of gas that let him pass mercifully into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

Unfortunately, the peace didn't last, and when he awoke again, he immediately became aware of the pain, which had now spread from his limbs and was now in his torso and pelvis. Every nerve in his body was screaming, but he could no longer scream himself. He was vaguely aware that he was being pushed down a hallway, and the voices of the doctors echoed in his ears.

"…nother victim of the poison attacks," a nurse was saying. Even her soft voice was like someone screaming in his hypersensitive ears.

"We've deduced that it's some kind of neurotoxin," another doctor was explaining. "Apparently it attacks the nervous system and inflames any nerve it comes into contact with. While the poison is slow to kill, the victims will be in constant agony the entire time it's in their system."

"It _is_ lethal, though, even if it's slow-acting. We've had three deaths already," said a female voice, a deep note of sorrow in her tone.

"Have we synthesized an antidote yet?" another doctor was asking.

"Yes, though we don't have enough doses for everyone yet," came yet another voice. "We have to prioritize who should receive them."

"Be sure this young man gets one," came Sergeant Eaton's voice. "He's the one fighting those monsters, and that beast is still out there. We're going to need him back in fighting condition as soon as possible, or more people are going to get hurt."

"No kidding? Alright, get him to intensive care, now. I want our best doctors making sure he recovers," said a firm, authoritative voice.

J.J. drifted off again after that, sleep once again mercifully sparing his agonizing existence. When he woke again, he became aware that he was in a hospital room by himself, hooked up to an IV, with a doctor standing over him. The doctor looked down at him and held up a hand.

"You're up? Don't try to move yet," she said firmly. "We've administered the antidote, but it's going to take a while before it kicks in fully. If you try to move before then, you'll just hurt yourself."

"Wh-… What time is it?" J.J. asked, his voice cracked and dry.

"It's been about six hours since you were infected," she replied calmly. "Fortunately, the antidote seems to be working. You're lucky that we managed to produce one so quickly. With any luck, we can discharge you in another day or two."

"That's… not… fast enough," J.J. said, trying to push himself up. As soon as he put weight on his arms, however, he yelped in pain and collapsed back onto the bed, which sent more pain shooting through his body, and he immediately began spasming again. The doctor hurried over to him, swearing under her breath as she adjusted the pillows.

"That's why I told you not to move!" she hissed to him.

"J.J.?" a querulous voice came. J.J. managed to raise his head up enough to see Kelsie sitting outside his room in a wheelchair, staring at him with wide eyes. J.J.'s heart sank, and he managed a slight smile despite his pain.

"Hey kid," he said wearily, struggling to sit up despite the doctor holding him down.

"What happened?" she asked, wheeling herself over to him, an expression of mixed horror and worry on her face. "Is he dying?"

"No, don't worry," the doctor soothed her. "He's recovering just fine."

"Yeah, just a little injury," J.J. tried to assure her, gritting his teeth in an effort to stifle the pain enough to address her in a steady voice. "I'll be on my feet again in no time."

"Don't lie to me!" she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "What happened?! How'd you get this badly hurt?!"

"Sometimes a fight ends with people getting hurt. That's just the nature of things," J.J. explained as calmly as he could. "And I'm in good hands here. Anyways… sorry I didn't pick you up a present," he added, forcing a weak smile. "Your dad asked me to, but I got a little sidetracked."

Kelsie shook her head at him, a furious expression on her face. "How can you joke when you're lying there half-dead?!"

"It's either that or scream. Apparently, though, you're doing well, if you can chew me out like this," J.J. said with a little laugh, which devolved into another coughing fit.

Kelsie glared at him, then wheeled around and stormed out of the room. J.J. had the impression that she would have slammed the door behind her. He sighed and slumped back against the pillows again. The doctor gave him a pained, yet sympathetic look.

"She took that well," J.J. managed to quip as the doctor's expression turned to one of annoyance.

"Okay, enough talking for you," she said as an orderly arrived with a bottle filled with some sort of liquid, which she poured into a small cup. "Drink this."

"What is it? Pain medication?" J.J. asked as she held it up to his lips. He dutifully sipped it down.

"Partially. Also something to help you sleep. If you want to recover quickly, you're going to need your rest."

"What abo-?" J.J. began, but he immediately began to feel woozy. Between the fatigue and his body's desire to escape the all-consuming, throbbing pain it was in, he once again fell back against the pillows, and within seconds, he was unconscious again.

* * *

What woke J.J. next was his head throbbing, which slowly spread down his neck and chest to his limbs. Groaning in misery, he slowly opened his eyes and looked around warily. The hospital room was dark, save for the glowing lights of the machine that he was hooked up to, monitoring his vitals. The slow, steady beeping of the heart monitor filled his ears, pounding against them like a hammer, but as his eardrums adjusted, he was able to finally relax.

For a few moments, he lay there, hesitant to push his body after the pain he had been through. However, he knew he had to get moving, especially if there was still the Diemon out there wreaking havoc. He couldn't lay in bed forever. Slowly, he put his hand on the bed beside him, and then he put weight on it, tentatively pushing himself up. He sucked in air through his gritted teeth in anticipation of the pain that was to come, and indeed, he did feel his nerves protest, but all he felt was a dull throbbing, as opposed to the sheer, burning agony he had been in earlier. For that, at least, he was grateful.

He sat up in bed, but he was still dizzy. The room spun around him, and he fell back in bed, closing his eyes for a moment before re-opening them, and slowly the room stopped whirling around him. In his addled state of mind, he wasn't certain that he wasn't still dreaming. Everything seemed to have a surreal quality to it. The edges of the heart monitor seemed blurred, and he was having problems collecting his thoughts beyond the base instinct of avoiding pain. Avoiding paint? That thought caused him to giggle drunkenly.

His thoughts lazily turned to the battle, but it was hard to keep focused. He languidly rolled to his left and saw his clothing laying in a pile on a chair, as it had been stripped off of him to put him in a hospital gown. He reached for it, but the IV prevented him from moving very far. In the back of his mind, he knew he had to get to his diary and write down the monster's name. Its name was obviously Diemon. That was easy enough to write down. No… Diemon was the name of the clown, wasn't it? Damon? No, the monster was the Fool. The Diemon was the-.

Realizing he was getting nowhere, he put an end to that line of thinking. He put his hand down and gazed up at the ceiling, realizing that he was in no state to do anything, at least for the rest of the night. Some hero he was, he thought bitterly. Not that he wanted the title of hero in the first place, but so long as he bore that burden, he felt compelled to at least live up to the expectations of the people that were depending on him. Like Kelsie, for instance.

As soon as J.J. thought of her, a sense of horror and dread washed over him, piercing through the painkilling drugs that were keeping him in a loopy state of mind. The look of horror on her face when she had seen him in pain… the fury on her face when he'd tried to reassure her… he couldn't get it out of his mind. He felt as though he had failed her.

He had to make it up to her, he decided, grunting as he pushed himself up slowly. The cord of the IV stretched taut, but J.J. just took hold of the rack, keeping it secure and dragged it with him as he slowly climbed out of bed. When his bare feet touched the cold linoleum floor, he felt another shock of pain, but he slowly pushed himself unsteadily into a standing position. Though he was half-crouched over in pain, he was able to keep himself upright, and he limped his way to the door and pulled it open.

The hallway was empty, and J.J. glanced around the closed hospital room doors. Collecting his thoughts for a moment, he remembered that Kelsie was in Room 106. Over his shoulder, he saw that he had been put in Room 112. That was a small mercy, as it meant he wouldn't have to go too far. Plus, it explained why Kelsie had been on hand to see him writhing in pain, he thought bitterly. J.J. slowly wandered down the hall, wincing with every step he took.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if he was consciously sleepwalking. Or, perhaps, was he dreaming? Everything seemed to be swaying, and his body didn't feel completely under his own control. Thus, when he found his way to Kelsie's room, he wondered if he wasn't imagining the voices inside.

J.J. put his hand on the door handle and slowly pushed it open, peering inside. Kelsie was sitting up in her bed, speaking in a soft voice to a figure sitting on the edge of her bed with its back to the door, though J.J. couldn't make out their features. All he could see was that the figure was clad in black robes.

"…remember that Irene said that you gave her the ability to become a Diemon," Kelsie was saying. "Why should I trust you?"

"Whether or not you decide to trust me is your decision, child," the figure said. It spoke in a deep, smooth voice that was strangely soothing. "However, I was drawn to you because you seem to be unsatisfied with the role you were given in life. Or, rather, the fact that your role was robbed from you. Your accident was truly unfortunate."

"It's… not myself that I'm worried about, though," Kelsie said slowly, looking away. "What concerns me is… Kamen Rider Page."

"Ah, the boy that has been fighting those that have received my gifts?" the figure asked. There was no anger in his voice, which struck J.J. as odd. "Yes, I know of him. I am still not certain of my feelings about him. I do not resent him for doing what he thinks is right, as he is following his own desires. However, I do wish that he would allow those that received my gifts to experience them to their fullest."

"To what end?" Kelsie asked suspiciously.

"It is my purpose, nothing more," the figure explained calmly. "That is why I am here before you now, my dear. You burn with a desire to do more with your life. Or, rather to assume a new mantle?"

"I… I admire Page, with all my heart," Kelsie said slowly, looking down at the bed, clenching the sheets tightly in her hands. "He's my hero, my idol, and he saved my life. Even… even though I'm crippled, I'm grateful for protecting me in the forest. But… he's working himself to death. He's had to fight this war alone for weeks now, and earlier today, he could have died. I couldn't bear it if he did."

"Then what would you have me do?" the figure asked softly.

"Can you save his life?" Kelsie asked quickly, looking up at him.

"Unfortunately, I cannot," the figure replied. "He has already been given a gift by my sister, so I may not interfere. Any injuries he sustains, he must overcome on his own. Furthermore, I cannot force my will on others. My gifts can only be accepted voluntarily."

"But… then what can I do to help him?" Kelsie asked. "I can't do anything! I can't even stand on my own anymore!"

"What role do you wish, child?" the figure asked softly. "In your deepest heart, what do you truly desire to be?"

Kelsie fell silent, looking down at the bed, before speaking softly, "What I really want is to be a hero in my own right. I want to help others. I want to fight Diemons and save the world, just like what Kamen Rider Page is doing." She slowly looked up and added timidly, "But… you wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" the figure asked patiently.

"You're creating the Diemons, right? Wouldn't that go against your plans?" Kelsie pointed out.

"As I've said, I merely wish to give you what you desire," the figure said with a soft chuckle. "What you choose to do with my gift is your decision. You truly are a selfless girl, aren't you? Few request my gift for the sake of others. But, yes, I will grant your wish. If that is truly what you want."

"It… it is," Kelsie said hesitantly. "That's what I really, truly want."

"Very well. That wish is within my power to grant. However… there is something I must do first," the figure said.

Slowly, it turned towards the door, and J.J.'s eyes widened with fright. The figure unfurled six black pairs of wings, and as it turned its head towards him, J.J. beheld an expressionless golden mask covering its face.

The figure stood up and walked over to him, peering down at him. J.J. found himself unable to move as it towered over him, and it said in a soft voice, "You will not be harmed, do not worry."

At that moment, J.J. felt a pulse run through his body. He felt every muscle go stiff, and then his body went slack. All at once, it felt as if the painkillers he was on took hold of him, and he slumped backwards, his consciousness fading rapidly. The last thing he remembered was those blank golden eyes staring down at him before darkness overtook him and he sank into unconsciousness.


	15. Session 15

**Session 15**

J.J.'s eyes slowly opened as a ray of sunlight hit them, and he groaned as he gingerly sat up in bed. He brushed his hand over his eyes, trying to get a grasp on his thoughts. What had he been doing last night? Was it… something having to do with Kelsie? The Fool…? No, the mask was a different color from the Fool's… or was it a dream? Had he been sleepwalking?

Before he could dig deeper into his memories from the previous night, a familiar voice addressed him. "Ah, I am gratified that my assumptions about your resilience remain correct," Tristan said, leaning back on his stool, his arms folded. "You recovered more rapidly than Lady Marks had estimated."

J.J. smirked lightly as he lowered his hand, nodding to Tristan by way of greeting. "Glad that at least one of you has faith in me. I'm going to assume she was worrying herself sick over me?"

"You are correct," Tristan nodded. "I believe that her exact words were 'If that bastard makes me spend one more night in the hospital, I'm going to make sure he stays here permanently.'"

J.J. laughed as he settled back in the bed, wincing in preparation for a new rush of pain. To his relief, he felt nothing, though his body was still heavy. He wasn't sure if it was from the painkillers that had kept him sedated, the poison leaving a lingering toll that he hadn't yet recovered from, or just that his body had grown soft from lying in bed for a full day. Glancing over to his left, he also noticed that his IV had been removed from his arm.

"How long have I been out?" J.J. asked.

"You were brought to these healers the previous afternoon. It is currently mid-morning, by estimation," Tristan said. "The healers wish to assess your situation before they allow you to depart. However, I am of the opinion that you do not require more rest."

"And how'd you come to that conclusion, Doctor?" J.J. asked in a snarky tone.

"I am familiar with your recovery speed by now, page," Tristan replied calmly. "You tend to heal fairly quickly. Furthermore, if you required further rest, you would not be addressing me so casually. When you are truly in distress, your responses are far more biting. The fact that you are jesting suggests to me that you are ready to return to battle."

"Which… reminds me," J.J. added, turning more serious. "Have there been any more attacks while I was out?"

"Not in the interim, thankfully," Tristan said. "It would appear that your latest quarry has disappeared for the time being. I also watched your diary for signs of it reacting to this latest opponent, but there has been no indication that he has been active."

"It wouldn't," J.J. admitted, holding his hand out for his diary, which Tristan gave to him. "I didn't have a chance to write down the Diemon's name."

"Ah," Tristan said, looking slightly sheepish.

"But thank you for watching anyways," J.J. added, shooting Tristan a quick smile. "I appreciate it."

"There is no need to offer gratitude to a knight for merely performing his duty," Tristan said humbly. "I am sworn to do all I can to fight the Diemons, regardless of how minor my efforts are currently." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and added, "Have you an idea of the name of monster you are facing?"

"That I do," J.J. said, scribbling down a name quickly. The quill took over a moment later, quickly sketching out the stats of the Diemon while the pair waited. Once it stopped moving, J.J. grinned to himself before turning the diary around to show Tristan.

"Manticore?" he asked, tilting his head.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of it," J.J. commented, not unkindly. "I know that it was known as far back as at least the Romans. It's a monster with a human's head, a lion's body, and the ability to shoot poisonous spikes out of its tail. It was said to be a vicious, merciless predator. Rather fitting, given this guy's deal," he added with a scowl.

"Pray tell?" Tristan implored him.

"He was going on about how others haven't suffered nearly as much as he has, and that somehow gives him the right to inflict pain and torment on whomever he decides hasn't suffered enough," J.J. sighed.

"It would appear that he has already been thoroughly corrupted by the D-former in his possession. That is not a line of thought a rational man would follow," Tristan commented.

"I dunno if that's the D-former talking," J.J. admitted. "From the way he was telling it, he was having these thoughts long before he became a Diemon."

"Well, the D-formers do tend to twist even the most noble of intentions, as you have seen," Tristan said, sitting back on the stool.

"Yeah… and the Fool isn't helping matters," J.J. said. "Which reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you. During my fight with Irene, he mentioned something about hoping that she could achieve Apotheosis. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

"The term is unfamiliar to me, I am afraid," Tristan said, shaking his head. "In what context was it used?"

"The Fool made it sound like it was his overarching goal," J.J. said. "Did Quintus mention it or anything in any of his writings?"

"Not that I am aware of. Nor do I recall Quintus having a specific goal aside from following the wishes of the King of Almencia," Tristan said. "Perhaps this is a new discovery that our foes have made on their own?"

"Possibly, which would explain why the Fool has such a vested interest in keeping the Diemons alive. Maybe it's a process that takes a while, and it just hasn't happened yet," J.J. suggested. Then he remembered something. "Dave also mentioned that he was suffering from some disease, too, and that the Black Seraph's D-former cured him. Do you know anything about that?"

"Mm… I do recall that becoming a Diemon did heal one of all ailments," Tristan admitted, scratching under his chin. "It was one of the reasons why the Black Seraph had so many flocking to him. However, I am unsure as to whether or not defeating a Diemon would also result in their illness returning. Do bear in mind that I was unaware of the fact that Diemons could even be saved, until you showed me otherwise," Tristan pointed out. His voice was pained, and he looked down at the ground, taking a deep breath as he did.

"Sorry," J.J. said quickly, looking away. "I didn't mean to bring up those memories. I was just hoping you might have some insight. I also remembered that I had been injured before I received my own D-former, and I was healed immediately afterwards, so I was wondering if the healing powers were universal."

"Why are you suddenly interested?" Tristan asked, giving J.J. a suspicious sidelong glance.

J.J. looked away slowly. "I… had been wondering if it was possible to cure Kelsie, if she had a D-former as well."

A deep scowl creased Tristan's face. "That is a dangerous line of thought, page," the knight warned.

"I know, and it's not one that I was willing to actually test," J.J. assured him quickly. "I wouldn't make that gamble, especially since I _know_ that D-formers produce Diemons, but I don't know if having a D-former would even cure her in the first place. I'm not going to risk her safety on idle supposition, so you don't have to worry about me experimenting. It was just a thought."

Tristan continued to stare at J.J. levelly until he seemed convinced of J.J.'s sincerity. His expression slowly relaxed as he added, "No… I do not believe you would. For all my worries about your possession of a D-former, you seem to have remained uncorrupted by your own, somehow. Did something occur to encourage this line of thought?"

"I dunno…." J.J. said slowly, looking away with a frown. "Something about last night… I had this weird dream where I was walking through the hallway… and I wound up…." J.J.'s eyes widened, and he suddenly sat up straight in bed. "The Seraph!" he cried.

"What?" Tristan asked, leaning back, an alarmed look on his face.

"Last night! He was here! In the hospital!" J.J. said, moving to push himself out of bed. "I swear, he was in Kelsie's room! He was talking about giving her powers, and-!"

"What's going on?" Gwen asked, poking her head into the room with a hopeful expression. "Is he finally awake? Can I smack him for worrying me again?"

J.J. stopped fidgeting as Gwen walked towards him, her arms crossed, an annoyed expression on her face. He gave her an apologetic grin as he said slowly, "Ah… hey there."

"Hey yourself," she said icily, sitting on the edge of his bed. The pair remained silent for a moment before she reached up and smacked him upside the head. J.J. winced at the blow, but was glad to note that there was no more pain than he would usually feel. The antidote had clearly done its job.

"You need to stop worrying me!" Gwen shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I can't keep losing sleep over your safety! And dammit, I'm not spending another night in the hospital! I have a life, you know!" she said, sounding on the edge of tears.

"I'm sorry," J.J. said softly, looking down at the bed. "It's not like I wanted to wind up here, you know. It's just nearly impossible to win a fight without taking a hit, and with this Diemon, he only needs one scratch to knock me out of commission."

"Yeah, well… figure out a better way to fight," she said in a huff. "If you wound up in the hospital, you clearly need a new plan."

"Perhaps more training is in order," Tristan suggested.

"Please no," J.J. said quickly. Glancing up, he saw the shadow of a smirk on Tristan's lips at his response.

Gwen sighed and straightened up. "Anyways, what were you yelling about a second ago?"

"Right! Have you seen Kelsie yet?" J.J. asked.

"Last I checked, Kelsie's not my boyfriend," Gwen said drily, scowling at him. "So no, I haven't gone to see her. Keep talking about her like that, and I'm going to worry she'll steal you away from me."

"She's fourteen," J.J. said drily, a disgusted look crossing his face.

"My point still stands. Why do you need to see her?" she asked in a more serious tone.

J.J. sat back in the bed and spent the next few minutes explaining what had happened the night before while Tristan and Gwen listened. Gwen's face remained impassive, but Tristan's expression slowly darkened as J.J. spoke. When he had finished, Gwen glanced over at Tristan.

"You look like you're worrying over something," she commented. "What, does that sound like this Black Seraph?"

"It could be," Tristan admitted slowly. "Your description of him does match my recollection. He was always very persuasive, very sympathetic. An event like the one you experienced last night would not be unusual in my experience with him."

"Or it could have been a dream," Gwen suggested. "You did say you were doped up on painkillers."

"Then how would I have known what the Black Seraph looks like?" J.J. pointed out. "Tristan said my description of him was accurate."

"You've also been told before that D-formers were given to people by a man in black with six black wings," Gwen pointed out. "It's not too far-fetched to think your mind used what people described and manifested something that looks like him in your dreams."

"How come you're trying to dissuade me from this?" J.J. asked, frowning.

"I'm not. But I don't want you working yourself up when you're just getting over being poisoned," Gwen said. J.J. was about to protest, but she pinned him with a glare, so he closed his mouth. "Plus, Kelsie's mother already hates you. I don't want you to go barging in there, demanding to see their daughter, and her mother telling you that you can't see her anymore because you're threatening her precious little girl. Especially if you're wrong about this."

J.J. sighed. "I'll admit, I shouldn't get so worked up when I don't have anything but a suspicion. Still, it can't hurt to just ask her, right?"

"No! By all means, go talk to her," Gwen agreed. "Just do it calmly. You looked like you were about to kick down the door and demand to see her."

"Right. Sorry about that, I probably was," J.J. admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Anyways, the doctors said they can probably let you out whenever you're ready to go. I asked them on the way over. They just want to check up on you before they release you," Gwen continued.

"Really? Awesome. Alright, let's get going." J.J. once again moved to push himself up. As he did, though, Gwen let out a shriek and looked away, and Tristan stood up suddenly.

"Ah, page? Perhaps you should consider your… modesty?" he said tactfully as J.J. swung one leg out of the bed.

"What now?" J.J. asked, frowning.

"Pants, J.J.!" Gwen shrieked.

J.J. glanced down, then let out a yelp and quickly covered himself. He'd completely forgotten that he was still wearing a hospital gown. Despite the situation, Gwen burst out laughing as she peeked at him from between her fingers.

"Tristan… hand me my jeans, please?" J.J. squeaked. "Gwen, can you give me a minute to get dressed?"

"I'll get the doctor," she giggled, her shoulders still shaking with laughter.

Ten minutes later, J.J. was fully dressed and speaking with the doctor who had treated him the night before. Looking up from her charts, she smiled thinly.

"You've recovered remarkably quickly," she commented. "In fact, you're doing better than any of the other victims of this attack. You're in excellent shape, though. I'd be willing to bet that's why you were able to fight off the poison so well."

"As I said," Tristan said smugly.

"How… have the other victims been?" J.J. asked hesitantly, now fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed beside Gwen.

The doctor's smile faded immediately. "Most… are recovering. However, as with any disease, we can't save everyone."

J.J. nodded once, looking at the floor. Of course, not all of those deaths were his fault. But the longer Dave was loose, the more that toll was going to rise.

"I'm good to go, though?" J.J. asked, looking up again.

"You need to take it easy for a few days," the doctor warned him. "No strenuous exercise, or you could do permanent damage to your body. But yes, we can send you home. That said… there's the matter of your bill," she added slowly.

J.J. felt his blood freeze, and his hand rested on his very light wallet. "Ah… how much…?" he asked slowly. The doctor handed him a sheet of paper, and as J.J. saw the numbers, his heart stopped. Gwen peered at it over his shoulder and scoffed, snatching it from his hand.

"I'll take care of this," she said simply.

J.J. gave her a sidelong glance, his panic replaced with guilt. "Gwen, you don't have to-"

"If you really want to pay for this, you can," Gwen shrugged, grabbing her purse and pawing through it for her wallet. "I think you'd prefer if I covered the bill, though. And no, you don't have to worry about paying me back. Just think of this as my way of thanking you for everything you've done. Why don't you go take care of what you needed to with Kelsie?"

"Right…." J.J. said slowly, still uncomfortable, but not really in a position to argue.

As Gwen began filling out the forms, however, the door suddenly burst open, and a familiar – and unwelcome – figure stormed into the room. Karen, Kelsie's mother, was red-faced and furious, looking around the room wildly. J.J. could practically see her foaming at the mouth as she laid eyes on him. She pointed a figure at him accusingly, her eyes wide with rage.

"You!" she shrieked. "What did you do with my daughter?!"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside while I'm speaking with my patient," J.J.'s doctor said prosaically. Karen ignored her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," J.J. said firmly, narrowing his eyes at the fuming woman. "Especially since I haven't even seen her since I was brought in here. And trust me, with as much pain as I was in? I wasn't in a position to do anything but lie in bed and scream."

"Then why is her room empty?!" she snapped. J.J.'s eyes widened, and his heart stopped for a moment at that news.

"Maybe… she climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom?" Gwen suggested hesitantly. However, she shot a furtive glance at J.J., and Tristan did the same. J.J.'s heart restarted, though now it was beating at triple its normal speed.

"She can't even walk!" Karen hissed. "And one of the nurses would have had to help her out of her bed and into her wheelchair! None of them know where she is! Which leads me to believe that you had something to do with her disappearance!" she snarled at J.J.

J.J.'s fear was momentarily replaced with anger and contempt, and he rolled his eyes at the woman as he folded his arms. "And what, pray tell, would I do with her?" J.J. pointed out drily. "What, do you think I wheeled her out of the hospital without anyone noticing? Kidnapped her? Yeah, go check the closet. I have her stashed in there, and I planned to escape with her later. But damn, you caught on to me, because you're just too clever. Alert the cops!"

"Don't get smart with me, boy!" Karen hissed. At that moment, though, the door opened again, and J.J. glanced up to see Sergeant Eaton's now-familiar face peering into the room.

"Ah… Mr. Wells?" the sergeant said hesitantly. "Is now a bad time?"

"Actually, no, sergeant. Your timing is impeccable," J.J. said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. He held his wrists out to the officer. "You've just caught me in the middle of a serious crime. I almost kidnapped a girl, but this brilliant detective here discovered my nefarious intentions before I could get away with it. All I can do now is concede to her expert skills of deduction and surrender to the law. I'm at your mercy, sir!" J.J. said theatrically, looking up at the ceiling. Gwen snickered with laughter as Karen fumed and the sergeant stared at him in confusion.

"…What?" he asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Officer, my daughter is missing," Karen explained in a somewhat calmer voice, though she was still glaring at J.J. like she was hoping her gaze would be enough to set him on fire. "I'd like you to dispatch men to go look for her."

"She's probably around the hospital somewhere, so you probably won't have to look very far," J.J. added drily, partially to spite Karen some more, and partially to reassure himself that Kelsie really was nearby.

"We'll have a few people look into it, ma'am," the sergeant assured her. "In the meantime, I have business with Mr. Wells here. Are you well enough to stand?" he added with a note of concern.

J.J. glanced at the doctor, who nodded, and J.J. shakily rose to his feet. For a moment, he was swept up by a wave of dizziness, but he shook it off before making his way over to the officer. "So what's the problem?" he asked evenly. "This wouldn't have something to do with the Diemon, would it?"

"You've gotten used to people coming for you about that, haven't you?" Sergeant Eaton noted.

"That's part of it. Plus, this has been going off for a while," he added, pulling his diary out of his pocket. The small book was vibrating in his hand. As Sergeant Eaton gave him a curious look, he explained, "This thing lets me know when a Diemon I've faced is active. I was going to go look into it as soon as I was discharged from here."

"Is that a good idea? You're looking a little wobbly there," Sergeant Eaton commented.

"The doctors want me to rest, but if a Diemon's attacking, I can't just ignore it," J.J. said. "I'm the only one that can deal with them, after all."

"Well… that might have changed," Sergeant Eaton said. J.J. stopped walking and stared at the man.

"…I'm sorry?" J.J. asked blankly.

"You haven't seen the news yet? You're going to want to take a look," Sergeant Eaton said, walking quickly towards the lobby. J.J. followed him at a brisk pace into the waiting room, where a television was turned to the news and a few people were watching it intently.

"…seems to be another masked warrior who's currently fighting off the monsters terrorizing the residential suburbs of Marville," the reporter was saying. The masculine voice was playing over a blurry clip taken on someone's cellphone of a navy blue figure dashing between Shards while delivering acrobatic punches and kicks to the lumbering beasts. "Eyewitnesses are not sure who this person is, but we do not believe they are associated with the vigilante the city has come to know as Kamen Rider Page."

A sinking feeling began to take over J.J. as he watched the television. The more he watched, the more he had a sneaking suspicion about the figure's identity.

"She didn't…." J.J. said softly. Sergeant Eaton glanced over at him.

"You know who this is?" the sergeant asked.

"I have a good idea," J.J. sighed. As he watched, the figure paused for a moment, long enough for the camera to get a clear shot. They were small and slim, and they were dressed in an EMS jumpsuit that was far too big for them. Their face was covered by a surgical mask, a cap, and a pair of sunglasses. However, in that brief shot, J.J. could make out that the figure was a female… a girl, in fact, only in her mid-teens. J.J. stared at the television in disbelief as Karen came storming up behind him.

"Excuse me!" she snapped. "I wasn't done with you! What are you going to-?"

"I found your daughter," J.J. interrupted her, pointing at the screen. Karen stopped and stared, and then her eyes widened with fright. She suddenly turned and grabbed J.J. by the lapels of his jacket, her face beet red and her eyes welling up with tears.

"What the hell did you tell her to do?!" she screamed at him. Everyone in the waiting room turned to stare at them as Sergeant Eaton pulled her off of J.J., who staggered away from her before straightening his jacket. Nevertheless, Karen continued to try and claw at J.J. while Sergeant Eaton half-dragged them into an empty room so they could argue without disturbing the other patients.

"I didn't do anything!" J.J. insisted once the door closed behind them. "At no point did I tell her it was a good idea to go out and do that! In fact, every single time she asked, I made it clear that she _shouldn't_ try to copy me!"

"Just by fighting these monsters you encouraged her to do the same!" Karen roared. "If you weren't off playing hero all the time, this wouldn't have happened!"

"Alright, fine! Whatever!" J.J. shot back suddenly. Karen was taken aback, as this was the first time he'd ever shouted at her. "Blame me! I don't care! But right now, she's in trouble, and I'm the only one that can help her! Do you want me to save your daughter or not?! If you do, get out of my way and let me get over there!"

That statement seemed to finally cut through Karen's rage, though she paused for a moment before straightening up. She still wore a look of fury, however, as she said in a strangled whisper, "You bring her back without a scratch on her, do you hear me?"

"Of course," J.J. said firmly. For just a moment, he saw a hint of respect and relief in Karen's eyes before she let out a soft "hmph" and turned away from him to begin dialing something on her phone. Sergeant Eaton nodded, and J.J. turned around to leave.

As J.J. walked out of the room, Tristan stepped in front of him. "I intend to accompany you on this venture, page," he said in a tone that brokered no argument.

"Any reason in particular?" J.J. asked. He motioned for Tristan to walk with him, and the pair quickly exited the hospital and began hurrying across the parking lot.

"Because I suspect this will be a difficult trial for you," Tristan explained. "I am concerned you will be distracted by this girl, especially considering what happened last time she was present during a duel."

"Yeah, but my situational awareness has gotten better," J.J. pointed out. "Plus, this time I'm just going to tell her to leave the area before I fight."

"You may find that more difficult than you suspect," Tristan retorted. "Especially if she has a D-former, she may already be indulging in its power. She likely will not heed your words."

"She's not a Diemon yet," J.J. said, though even he could hear that his tone was unsure. "If I had to hazard a guess about what's going on, the Black Seraph gave her a D-former, and it healed her. She then decided to run off to play hero herself. Karen was right about that much – I'm guessing she's trying to imitate me." As he finished speaking, he straddled his bike and pulled his helmet on. "But she hasn't transformed, so I'm willing to bet she hasn't used it to do any more than boost herself physically, which in my experience is a pretty light use of a D-former."

"Quite. I agree, she does not yet exhibit any signs of D-former corruption, nor show any evidence that she has become a Diemon," Tristan said. "Yet one other question remains, page: If you must, will you be able to turn your blade upon her?"

J.J. was silent for several long moments. Without answering the question, he started the bike and motioned for Tristan to get on. Tristan accepted his silence and climbed on behind J.J., grasping his hips as he did.

To the left, an ambulance started up, and J.J. took off after it as it began speeding down the road towards the suburbs. He followed closely, letting the driver of the ambulance set the pace. Traffic parted for them like paper being split apart by a knife, and they were able to make the trip in record time. Once they arrived in the suburbs, the ambulance turned down a street which had already been blocked off by the police. J.J. stepped off his bike and jogged over to a secluded spot behind a house. He pulled his diary out of his pocket as soon as he was sure he was alone and no one was watching him.

"Henshin!" he called out, holding his diary up to his left cheek as his Driver appeared around his waist. Once it did, he snapped the book shut and slipped it into the belt buckle before giving the central amber D-former a spin.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted into the air, the voice echoing off the walls of the houses as J.J. was enveloped once again by the amber die, which spun around him as trumpets played. Moments later, he was clad in his familiar leather armor, and his quill flew out of his diary and into his hand. However, though he did click it into its sword form, he first pulled his diary off his belt again and flipped over to the manticore's stat page.

While J.J. knew the Diemon was nearby, his main concern was its health bar, as he wanted an indication of whether Kelsie had already tried engaging it, or if she was still busy fighting Shards. He prayed it was the latter. His heart was pounding as he looked up the manticore's health, and to his relief, it was still unharmed. He noted with a short chuckle that it was the first time he'd been glad to see a Diemon at full strength. That relief, however, quickly gave way to concern. What if that instead meant that Kelsie had already tried to fight Dave and couldn't hurt him at all? What if she was already injured? He didn't know what powers her D-former gave her, nor to what degree she had mastered them. Had it only healed her? Had she simply been returned to full health with no extra abilities? An average fourteen-year-old girl stood no chance against Shards, much less a Diemon!

J.J forced himself to calm down. Worrying wasn't going to get him anywhere; he would just have to see for himself. He put the diary back in his belt and rounded the corner to see Tristan waiting for him impatiently. He jerked his head towards the sounds of sirens and fighting off towards the north. J.J. nodded, and the pair ran the remaining half-block towards the quarantined area. Barricades had already been set up, and squads of officers were pointing an array of firearms into the fifty square yards between the two ends of the street. Not a single shot had been fired yet, however.

J.J. ran over to the officers, one of whom noticed him and nodded in greeting. J.J. returned the gesture before looking up. "What's going on?" he asked quickly.

"We want to move in and get the civilians trapped in their homes out of the area, but that monster is holding them hostage," she said, nodding towards the center of the rectangle the police had created. J.J. could see the manticore standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by a swarm of Shards. "And also… you can see why we don't want to open fire anyways with that other person in there," she added with a scowl. J.J. felt his blood run cold as he followed the woman's gaze.

As he had seen in the news report, the slender, girlish figure was dodging between Shards, occasionally jumping in the air to deliver roundhouse kicks or ducking beneath the Shards' crystalline claws to land punches on the silent beasts. To J.J.'s surprise, she was holding her own quite well. She must have been fighting for several minutes already, as she was breathing heavily, but she still moved with supernatural grace and agility, effortlessly dodging each strike that was thrown at her. J.J. noted with concern that her movements were not normal. Even a master martial artist would have been hard-pressed to keep up with her.

"We can't do anything with her in the way, so we were just going to let her take care of that mass of creatures before you showed up, sir," the officer explained, adjusting her grip on her handgun. "But if you wanted to do something yourself…?"

"Yeah. Let me handle this from here. Thank you," he said. The officer nodded, and a general announcement went around to let J.J. through the barricade. Tristan, meanwhile, silently watched from several feet away.

J.J. began to walk down the street as the last of the Shards fell to the ground. He noted that they didn't disintegrate into ash as they did when he slashed them, but they nevertheless seemed incapacitated for the moment. The girlish figure in blue let out a short laugh as she straightened up and pointed a finger at the manticore Diemon.

"And that's it for your flunkies!" she shouted confidently. "Next I'm going to take you down!"

Before J.J. could react, she took off at a sprint right at the manticore. Dave, however, remained stationary, staring at the girl with what could have been either arrogant amusement or utter bewilderment, as if he could hardly believe this petite girl intended to fight him. When she got in range, he remained still as she launched a flurry of punches into his stomach, finishing the combo with a jumping roundhouse kick to his midsection. The kick barely brushed his muscles, and the girl landed unsteadily on the ground in a low crouch while the manticore continued to stare at her silently. A moment later, he brushed his side off with an irritated look on his leonine face.

"Huh… you're tougher than I gave you credit for!" the girl said loudly, dramatically. "But I should have expected that! If someone as great as Kamen Rider Page couldn't handle you, I shouldn't have expected to be able to either!"

"Obviously," Dave commented blandly.

"At least… not as I am right now. But that's about to change," the girl said with a smirk as she reached into her jumpsuit and held something between her fingers. She then shifted into a dramatic pose, her legs spread wide apart, her right hand next to her face in a rough emulation of J.J. holding his diary next to his left cheek, while her left arm was extended across her body. It was almost a parody of J.J.'s transformation pose, and he wasn't sure whether to be amused or insulted.

"I hope you've said your prayers, monster!" the girl shouted. "Now… take a good look… at my… hensh-!"

"What the hell are you doing?!" J.J. barked, interrupting the girl mid-sentence. She jumped in surprise, whirling around to see J.J. standing with his arms folded. Behind his helmet, he wore a look of fury. Her eyes widened behind her sunglasses, and she almost looked sheepish for a moment.

"J… Kamen Rider Page! You've come to help me!" she announced. Behind her, the manticore continued to stare blankly at the almost surreal scene unfolding before him.

"No, I came to get you out of here, Kelsie!" J.J. shouted at her, walking over so that he was towering over her at his full height, his arms still crossed, one hand lightly tapping the flat of his sword against his ribs to underline his annoyance with her. "What were you thinking, coming out here and picking a fight with a Diemon?!"

"You were too badly injured, and these people needed saving!" she protested. "You said yourself that you were the only one who could fight Diemons! Now you're not alone!"

"Excuse me!" Dave shouted from the end of the street, his monstrous face contorted in rage.

"I'll deal with you in a minute!" J.J. snapped, pointing his sword at the Diemon. The monster silently stared at him in disbelief as J.J. turned back to Kelsie. "Look, I appreciate the thought, but you're just going to get yourself hurt!"

"You don't even know what I can do!" Kelsie shot back.

"And I don't want you to show me!" J.J. retorted. "What I want you to do is get back where it's safe and let me handle this!"

Dave suddenly let out a roar of frustration, and before J.J. or Kelsie could react, he swung his tail around, loosing a barrage of quills towards them. J.J. didn't have time to push Kelsie out of the way. He instinctively dove to the ground as the barbs flew over his head harmlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he was amazed to see Kelsie perform an effortless cartwheel away from the flying missiles, turning it into a backflip before landing lightly on her feet. J.J. gaped at her elegance from behind her mask, and he was grateful that the helmet hid his expressions. The last thing she needed was to be encouraged by how impressed he was with that maneuver.

The poisonous barbs pierced the barricades that the police had set up, and he heard one person scream in pain. J.J. winced as he looked up at the monster, who was now relatively defenseless, panting as he waited for his barbs to regrow. Seizing his chance, J.J. gripped his sword and pushed himself up, sprinting towards the manticore to take advantage of the slim window he had where Dave was vulnerable. Dave saw what he was doing and immediately began backpedaling as J.J. closed the distance. J.J., however, was faster.

When he was in range, he had twelve seconds left by his count, so he began lashing out with furious thrusting strikes, constantly moving forward and pressing his attack while Dave tried to escape his range. He was able to land a few shallow cuts to the manticore's chest, but as his time whittled down, he knew the damage wasn't going to be nearly enough to stop Dave. With five seconds left, he stopped pushing and instead leapt away, putting distance between himself and the manticore as the tail spikes finished regrowing. Spotting Kelsie watching him, he stepped in front of her to shield her from the next wave of missiles.

"I don't need you to protect me!" Kelsie insisted as J.J. held one arm out in front of her. "Please, let me help you!"

"Kelsie, even if you could help, I wouldn't want you to!" J.J. explained without looking at her, keeping his eyes on the manticore, who was growling at them ferally. "I can't fight properly if I'm worrying about your safety! And if I ignore you… well, that's how you ended up in the hospital in the first place," J.J. said, feeling a sharp pang of guilt run through his body. "So, for the last time, please… get behind the barricade until I finish dealing with this."

Behind him, he heard a stony grinding sound, followed by a short feminine yell. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that two of the Shards had managed to pull themselves to their feet, and had been about to attack him while he was focused on Dave. Kelsie, however, had disabled them with a few short punches, once again sending them to the ground. She looked up at him with a pleading look in her eye.

"J.J…. I don't want to be a burden. And I won't," she said softly. "But please, just for one fight… let me show you what I can do? Let me help you? You don't want to see me hurt, but I also don't want to see _you_ hurt! You're outnumbered here, and I can help even the odds! Please… all I want is one chance to fight with you, so you don't wind up back in the hospital… or worse."

J.J. was about to argue some more, but a roar from Dave changed his mind. He sighed reluctantly, glancing at Kelsie over his shoulder. "Fine. Just this once. Keep the Shards off my back, and if I tell you to get down, do so immediately. Got it?"

Even though Kelsie's face was hidden behind the sunglasses and mask, he could tell she was beaming at him, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Got it!" she exclaimed. She then darted past him, leaping into the air and delivering a hard, flying kick to the face of one of the Shards. J.J. shook his head as he stepped out of the crowd of Shards and stood before the Diemon without anything between them, leaving him completely unprotected against his quills.

"Brave of you to return after what I did to you last time," Dave commented, his tail twitching behind him in a very feline fashion. "And I'm surprised that you're on your feet again so soon. I would have thought getting hit by so many quills would have left you in the hospital for at least a month."

"Dave, let me ask you something," J.J. said as he began walking forward, trying to keep his tone light and casual. He was hoping he could keep the monster talking as he got in range. "What makes you think you've suffered more than anyone else?"

Dave's eyes widened, and then narrowed as a low growl left his throat. "You have no idea what I went through! That pain you felt? That was a fraction of what I lived with for _years_! How can you say I didn't suffer?!"

"I'm not saying you didn't," J.J. replied evenly. "If you hadn't, the Black Seraph wouldn't have approached you. That's a pattern that I've noticed with him – he only contacts people who believe they need what he offers. But if you were the only one to suffer… why have there been other Diemons before you? And why does he continue to give out D-formers?"

Dave hesitated, and J.J. could see he'd struck a nerve. "He… I was given these powers to show people that their lives aren't as bad as they make them out to be! I'm a prophet, an instrument of-!"

"But who are you to tell them that their own lives aren't miserable enough?" J.J. pressed. "Do you think a single parent with three kids and no job needs to be writhing in agony in the hospital while his children watch? That the family that just lost a someone also needs tovbe in physical pain on top of their emotional trauma? What about her?" J.J. added, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Kelsie, who was still fighting to keep the Shards off of J.J.'s back. "Kelsie lost the ability to walk. She was bedridden just like you were, and had her future robbed from her because of a Diemon just like you. In fact, with your abilities, you could have been the one to injure her. So, now that she's experienced that pain… do you really think she deserves to suffer even more? Are you going to return her to her bed?"

Dave stammered, trying to come up with an answer, as J.J. stood fifteen feet away from the Diemon, resting his left hand on his belt, his right hand still clutching his sword. "Just let it go, Dave," J.J. implored him softly. "No one else needs to get hurt. There's been enough pain to go around."

Dave's golden eyes softened for a moment, but then J.J. saw them narrow in suspicion. He let out a soft sigh as he recognized the trademark expression of someone completely consumed by their D-former's power, and he took a few steps back towards the crowd of Shards as Dave hissed at him.

"I was the one chosen by the Black Seraph!" Dave roared. "I am his prophet, and I decide when people have suffered enough! And you, boy… you haven't even begun to feel true pain!"

"Believe me, I've gone through my own share of suffering since this mess started," J.J. muttered as he held his sword out in front of him in a fencer's stance. "But if we have to do this, then fine. Alea iacta est."

Dave let out a roar and suddenly charged at J.J., catching him off-guard, as he'd expected Dave to open with another barrage of spikes. Maybe he'd struck a nerve hard enough that Dave was intent on rending J.J. with his own two claws instead. The manticore swiped at him twice, with J.J. backing up and swaying away from the blows. As a third claw strike flew at his face, J.J. knelt down suddenly, ducking under the blow, while extending his sword out in a firm thrust that connected with Dave's stomach. Sparks flew as the blade impacted with his thick golden fur, and Dave let out a roar of pain as he stumbled backwards, clutching his torso. J.J. stood again and wiped off his blade before rushing in to press the attack.

He followed his thrust with two quick slashes at Dave's unprotected torso. As the second slash landed, though, Dave spun around suddenly, whipping his tail at J.J., who managed to fall to the ground just in time. With him prone, however, he was left vulnerable, and Dave brought a furry foot up and stomped on J.J., knocking the wind out of him. The manticore's paw curled, and he raked his claws across his back, adding to the damage, before J.J. put both hands on the ground and pushed up, throwing the monster off of him.

J.J. grunted and stepped back for a moment, almost tripping over a fallen Shard, as he pulled his diary off of his belt to check his stats in the brief second he had while Dave caught his balance. He didn't feel any pain, as his armor had protected him from the blow, but his health was already down by a little less than a third. To his relief, though, it wasn't draining away like it had while he was poisoned. Apparently only Dave's tail was venomous. That, at least, was a small relief.

Dave snarled, and suddenly whipped his tail around, interrupting J.J.'s thoughts. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the Shard on the ground and ducked behind it. The Shard shuddered in pain, taking the quills in its rocky body. As it crumbled to dust, J.J. lowered his arms, letting out a soft sigh of relief while Dave hissed in frustration.

"Good thing Shards can take a hit," J.J. said as he his hand on his black D-former, giving it a quick spin. **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his Driver shouted into the air, and an ebony crystal surrounded him for a few seconds, chimes playing as it spun around him, before dissipating and leaving him clad in a black tunic. He gave his staff a little twirl and pointed it at Dave, letting out a short cry. The manticore ducked out of the way as a fireball flew towards him, growling as the flames singed his fur. J.J., however, continued attacking, slowly striding forward as he kept shooting blasts of fire at the manticore, who began backpedaling, trying to put distance between himself and J.J. so he could recover enough to loose another array of quills.

J.J. began switching his targets, lobbing fire at Dave's face, his right leg, his chest, trying to keep the monster guessing. He also kept the blasts tight and controlled, not wanting to accidentally ignite one of the nearby houses if he missed. Overwhelmed by the onslaught, Dave finally turned around and scrambled up a hill as J.J. fired another blast of magic at the manticore's back. The Diemon let out a roar at the burning sensation, and a few of the officers let out little titters while Dave swung around to glare furiously at J.J., who smirked.

"Dumb move, turning your back on your opponent," J.J. commented calmly, planting the butt of his staff on the ground and leaning on it lightly.

"Yeah, well, you can kiss my backside!" Dave roared out, as the twenty-second time limit had passed, and his quills had regenerated. Worse, J.J. was standing in the open, completely unprotected from his assault. A triumphant grin spread across his face, the disturbing triple row of teeth flashing maliciously, as he swung his tail around as hard as he could. As he finished turning in a circle, he clearly expected to see that J.J. had been turned into a pincushion. Yet… J.J. continued to stand in front of him, uninjured and somehow looking a bit smug, even though his mask prevented him from showing emotion.

Dave's triumphant grin melted into a look of confusion, and he swung his tail around again, but nothing happened. Perplexed, he looked around, until J.J. simply nodded at the base of his tail. Dave blinked and brought his tail around to see what was wrong, and then his eyes widened in shock. J.J.'s last blast hadn't been a fireball, but a freezing spell that had completely encased the quill-laden tip of Dave's tail in a block of solid ice, rendering his main weapon useless. J.J. grinned as he stopped leaning on his staff and began walking towards Dave again, this time resting his hand on his red D-former.

"Like I said, stupid move, turning your back on me," he said simply, as he gave his D-former a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** his Driver shouted, and as a ruby D20 surrounded him, war drums began to play, heralding his change into his physically strongest class. As the light faded, J.J. hefted his warhammer over his shoulder, his red Viking-esque armor gleaming blood-red in the sunlight, and continued to stride confidently towards Dave, whose eyes widened in fear as he realized what was about to happen.

"Please… don't!" Dave whimpered.

"Yeah, no," J.J. said quietly. "If you're going to dish out pain, you should be able to take it too."

J.J. stepped in and swung his hammer around in a short arc, slamming the head of it into the side of Dave's face, sending him sprawling. Before the Diemon could do more than roll a few feet, J.J. brought his hammer over his head and swung down hard, the head of the hammer hitting the manticore's chest hard enough to leave a slight depression in the earth beneath him. Dave groaned in pain and rolled his head back, but as J.J. brought his hammer up again, he looked down and swung his frozen tail around. J.J. was caught by surprise and blocked the attack with the haft of his hammer, but the impact caused the ice encasing the venomous tail to crack, though it didn't break.

Noticing this, Dave seemed to get a second wind, and he pushed himself up, once more swiping at J.J. with his claws. J.J. took a step back, but the blow raked across his chest. The sharp claws left a shallow gash in his armor, but otherwise he was unharmed. Dave let out a growl and swung his tail around again, though J.J. saw through the maneuver and swayed backwards. Once J.J. left his range, however, Dave slammed his tail against the ground, shattering the ice around it. Dave sneered, and J.J.'s eyes widened in fear. He immediately closed the distance as Dave swung his tail around again. J.J. leaped in and grabbed it before he could fire off his quills, however, catching the manticore's tail just below its quills and locking it under his arm.

"What are you doing?! Let go!" Dave yelled as J.J. smirked at him.

"Nope," J.J. said, and immediately began punching the Diemon in the face, stomach, and chest while he was helpless. He'd realized that the last major weakness Dave had was that his quills pointed outwards away from him, meaning that if J.J. could get extremely close to Dave and lock up his tail, he was in no danger of the quills hitting him.

After a few blows, Dave's head was lolling, but he shook himself and growled, "You've got me, and I can't hurt you. But that doesn't mean I can't kill everyone else!" Without warning, the quills on Dave's tail began flying again, and J.J. looked over his shoulder in horror as he realized that they were pointed at one of the barricades.

"Get down-!" J.J. started to scream, but then he paused, a shocked look on his face. Several disabled Shards had been lined up in front of the barricades, providing living shields for the officers behind them. The quills slammed into the stony bodies of the Shards, and the monsters dissolved into ash. Kelsie stepped out from behind them, folding her arms with a grin.

"I figured he might try to aim at the cops at some point!" she said triumphantly. "And the Shards take those quills better than police cars do! Plus, now you don't have to worry about the Shards attacking anyone either! Finish him off, Page!"

J.J. took a moment to admire Kelsie's forethought, as well as the sheer skill it must have taken to disable so many Shards, though he would never admit it to her out loud. He didn't want to encourage her by praising her. Instead, he gave her a nod as Dave wriggled out of J.J.'s grasp and delivered a fierce punch to his chest. Caught by surprise, J.J. stumbled away from him, letting the Diemon catch his breath.

"Fine, I'll just kill them with the next shot!" Dave roared. J.J. shook his head and pulled his diary off his belt, flipping to Dave's stat page as he reverted to Adventurer Class. Thankfully, he was down to about a quarter of his health, more than enough for J.J. to risk a Critical. And he knew precisely which one was best in this situation.

"You don't want to waste your time with them. Focus on me. I'm the one that's been beating you to a pulp," J.J. taunted, putting his hand on his central amber D-former. "Don't you want to make me suffer?" Dave roared in response, and J.J. smirked as he gave his D-former a spin.

 **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and he was immediately enveloped in an amber die as he felt energy gathering in his legs. He crouched low as Dave's spikes finished re-growing, and J.J. took off at a run before leaping into the air. Once airborne, he began twisting and rotating in the air, making the crystalline formation around him spin faster while Dave let out a final roar and swung his spiked tail around like a mace, loosing all his quills at point-blank range. However, the spikes bounced harmlessly off the rotating shield, and at the last second, J.J. swung his leg around in a flying roundhouse kick, which collided with Dave's chest. A single amber pane coalesced on his chest, glowing brightly as J.J. completed the kick, sending Dave staggering away and staring at the mark on his chest in shock.

J.J. glanced over his shoulder and saw glowing bronze lines starting to spread across the manticore's body. He pulled his diary off his belt again and flipped to Dave's stat page, watching quietly as his health bar drained to zero. When it did, he snapped the diary shut, and he heard the sound of breaking glass behind him. Dave screamed as his Diemon form disintegrated in a shower of fractals. Turning back around, J.J. gazed at a balding middle-aged man with dark skin lying on the ground, screaming in pain as he held his hand out.

"No! Don't leave me like this again!" Dave yelled. "I can't go back to that life!"

Before J.J. could move, a figure darted out from behind one of the houses. The Fool grabbed Dave's golden-brown D-former from the ground and stared at it with a soft giggle before turning to J.J., his head tilted. He grabbed a slip of paper from the ground and tossed it to J.J. He snatched it out of midair as the Fool gave him a round of applause.

"It managed to win right after a serious injury! And without taking a major hit this time, too! Its dances are getting better!" the Fool praised him. "But this was, sadly, a dance similar to those we've seen before. The real question is what it will do when the next act reaches its climax? Oooh, what a fun scene that will be!"

"What're you talking about?" J.J. snarled.

"Oh, what tragedy awaits! No matter what path it takes, someone will be devastated! Even we might stop laughing for a bit to shed a tear for what's to come!" the Fool cackled. "Though all comedy comes from pain, so perhaps we will still be amused! We can hardly bear the anticipation" The Fool bowed elaborately as it added, "But for now, we will vacate the stage. Good luck!"

"Wait!" Dave screamed as the Fool skipped away. J.J. let him go, sighing as he was left to ponder what the Fool meant. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when a small figure appeared near his elbow.

"That was awesome! We did it! Now to arrest the bad guy!" Kelsie chirruped happily. "Officers, bring him in!"

J.J. slowly turned to face Kelsie, seething anger starting to brew in him again. Kelsie's grin faded as J.J. towered over her, folding his arms over his chest as he stared down at her silently. She began to cower under him as she seemed to feel his fury building.

"Wh-what?" she asked meekly.

"Officer," J.J. said in a dangerously calm voice to one of the police officers approaching him. "Would you be able to spare a car to take this one back to the hospital?"

"I think we can arrange that, sir, yes," the officer responded, though he seemed confused.

"Good. If you would, please? I'll head there separately. I'll need to have a talk with her," J.J. said quietly. Kelsie's eyes widened with fright behind her glasses as the officer took her by the arm and began to lead her away from the scene. Despite her enhanced strength, she didn't pull away.

"P-Page!" she called out to him, but J.J. kept his back turned to her as he walked towards his bike where Tristan was waiting patiently.

"You have improved significantly, page," Tristan commented as he leaned lightly against the motorcycle. "Though once you decided to count the girl as an ally, you did not make good use of her. You are fortunate she acted on her own initiative."

"If Kelsie was using a D-former, I didn't want her drawing on its power more than she needed to," J.J. replied as he straddled the bike, motioning for Tristan to get on as well.

"Then why did you not tell that to her when you had the chance?" Tristan asked with a cocked head.

"Because if I had a talk with her now, she would brush it off. She's too hopped up on her success with fighting the Diemon that she wouldn't pay attention. Shipping her back to her parents in a police car, giving her time to think before her mother tears her apart for worrying her? That should impress upon her the seriousness of this situation," J.J. explained.

"Cunning," Tristan said simply. "It shall be intriguing to see how your plan acts itself out."

"There's going to be a lot of yelling, I can tell you that much," J.J. said bitterly as he revved the engine and spun the motorcycle around so they could head back to the hospital.

* * *

"You could have been killed!" Karen bellowed at her daughter as Kelsie sat on her bed, staring at the floor. It was forty minutes later, and five people were gathered in Kelsie's small hospital room. Her mother was standing over her as Sam listened quietly from a corner. J.J. was leaning against the door with his arms folded while Tristan stood stoically nearby, his hands behind his back.

Kelsie had been brought straight back to the hospital after the fight, and for twenty minutes her mother had been screaming in her face about how worried she had been and how Kelsie had no right to run off like that. J.J. was content to let her mother say what he'd wanted to in the first place, as this part of the argument wasn't his place. Plus, it was rare that he and Karen were on the same page, and he didn't want to ruin it.

"And you!" Karen suddenly whirled on J.J., which didn't surprise him. He'd been wondering how long it would take for her to start blaming him, and he was surprised he'd avoided her wrath so far. "How dare you put my daughter in danger?!"

"She put herself in danger," J.J. responded bluntly. "I spent the entire time trying to keep her out of the fight!"

"And you did a terrible job of it!" Karen spat. "If she had even one scratch on her…!"

"She doesn't. So kindly get back to yelling at her for running off in the first place," J.J. responded. "Because I agree with you wholeheartedly on that one."

"That's not fair! I helped you!" Kelsie cried. "If I wasn't there, more people would have gotten hurt!"

"Yes, you did good in this one fight," J.J. said. "Well done. But you're never doing it again!"

"But you need my help!" Kelsie insisted.

"Kelsie… how did you recover?" Sam asked quietly, bringing Kelsie's pleading to an abrupt halt.

"Just… lucky?" Kelsie asked meekly.

"Tell them the truth," J.J. snapped. When she stared at him over her mother's shoulder, he raised an eyebrow and added, "Or I will."

Kelsie sighed reluctantly and explained about her visit with the Black Seraph, how he had come to her the night before and made a deal with her. Sam and Karen were silent through her explanation until she finished, at which point she looked back down at the floor.

"So… if she keeps using this power, she could turn into one of those monsters?" Sam asked softly.

"I'm afraid so," J.J. confirmed. "Which is why I want to seal her powers here and now."

"For once, we agree," Karen huffed. "I will not let my daughter put herself in that kind of danger again."

"…Is there any guarantee she'll turn into a monster so long as she doesn't draw too heavily on the power of this… D-former?" Sam asked after a few moments' thought.

J.J., Karen, and Tristan all slowly turned to look at him, varying looks of incredulity on their faces. "Samuel… you're not suggesting we let her turn into a monster," Karen hissed slowly.

"No, of course not!" Sam said quickly. "But… well, what would happen if we were to take that D-former away from her? Would Kelsie be paralyzed again?"

J.J. hesitated, before looking away. "Honestly, I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. And then he began to follow Sam's line of thinking. He'd seen Dave screaming on the ground earlier before the police had taken him away. Did that mean that his illness had returned once his D-former was taken? Would the same thing happen to Kelsie if he took away her D-former? However, he shook his head as he came back to the one overarching fact. "But that doesn't matter! The risk of her becoming a Diemon outweighs Kelsie regaining her ability to walk!"

" _If_ she becomes a Diemon," Sam corrected him. "If she doesn't use her D-former, she won't become a Diemon, will she?"

"There is no guarantee that she will not be tempted to use it, especially when she is not under your supervision," Tristan said, frowning deeply.

"And we don't know the conditions for becoming a Diemon anyways," J.J. added. "It could be that just having a D-former could turn a person into a Diemon."

"You haven't," Kelsie pointed out. "And you've had your D-former longer than any of the Diemons."

J.J. turned and narrowed his eyes at the girl, crossing his arms. "I'm the exception, Kelsie, not the rule. Even Tristan here said as much." Tristan nodded in agreement. "And I'm not willing to risk your becoming a monster on a supposition."

"Excuse me!" Karen spat suddenly. "Kelsie is not your child. She's ours. You don't get to make decisions for her."

J.J. bit back a retort, turning to look over at Karen. "Fair enough. Then what's your decision?"

Karen sighed, running her hand over her face before looking over at Sam. "What do you think?"

"There's… no guarantee that Kelsie will become a monster," Sam said slowly.

"You're not seriously going to gamble your daughter's humanity!" J.J. cried.

"We're her parents. We have to provide Kelsie with every opportunity to succeed," Sam explained. "She's a gifted runner, and that's her path to college. Plus, she's been given the ability to walk again, after it was taken from her."

"She will not be able to enjoy it for very long if she becomes a Diemon!" Tristan exclaimed.

"And it's not as if she wouldn't be able to walk again anyways!" J.J. pointed out. "The doctors said she could recover on her own!"

"She _might_ ," Sam emphasized. "And it'll still take years for her to recover. If you take away her D-former now, she'll go back to being paralyzed."

"We don't know that for sure!" J.J. said.

"Then are you going to be the one to paralyze her again if you're wrong?" Karen asked coldly.

J.J. felt as if he'd just been punched in the stomach. He gaped at Karen for a moment, guilt overwhelming him, before he looked away.

"We'll watch her closely," Sam insisted. "If she shows any sign of using her D-former or gives any indication that she could become a Diemon, I'll give you my permission to take that jewel from her. But in the meantime, we should take advantage of this gift she's been given." Beside him, Karen nodded reluctantly.

J.J. stared at the pair in shock, unable to believe his ears. Behind them, though, Kelsie's eyes widened with delight. "So I can keep fighting with J.J.?!"

" _No_!" Four voices shouted at her all at once, and Kelsie shied away from the adults staring furiously down at her.

"Absolutely not!" Karen stated firmly. "You're staying as far away from anything having to do with these monsters as possible!"

"Agreed," J.J. growled. "I saw you bouncing around the battlefield earlier today. You were using your D-former the entire time to enhance your physical abilities. You wouldn't have stood a chance against those Shards otherwise. If a Diemon shows up, first thing I'm doing is dragging you to the other side of the city if I have to."

"Which you should have done in the first place," Karen growled. J.J. shot her a glare, but didn't say anything.

"That's settled then," Sam sighed. J.J. could see that he was reluctant to follow this path, but he was committed to it. "J.J., you can have our number if we need to call you for anything. In the meantime, Kelsie, let's get you checked out and take you home so we can ground you for sneaking out and fighting monsters," he said with a slight smile.

J.J. turned on his heel and furiously stormed out of the room, Tristan on his heels. "I can't believe those two," J.J. snarled.

"Indeed. I have never seen such irresponsibility," Tristan growled. "If their daughter becomes a Diemon, it is on their heads."

"That's just it, though. Kelsie shouldn't suffer from their mistake," J.J. said with a shake of his head.

"Then what will you do?" Tristan asked.

"For now… I'll just have to keep an eye on her," J.J. sighed. "I don't know what else to do."

"And if that fails, page?" Tristan asked softly. "What will you do if she succumbs to the power of the D-former? Can you turn your blade on her?"

"…Don't ask me questions I can't answer," J.J. replied softly as he picked up his pace, heading out of the hospital to get some rest at home. He knew he would need as much of it as he could get from now on.


	16. Session 16

**Session 16**

It was just past mid-morning when J.J. pulled up to Susumu's garage, and he'd only been awake for a few hours, but he already felt exhausted. Tristan and Susumu looked up from the workbench they were leaning over as he stepped off of his bike and pulled off his helmet. Susumu let out a low whistle as J.J. walked over to them, leaning on his cane as he peered at J.J.'s face.

"Those are some deep bags under your eyes," he commented as J.J. walked over to them, unable to keep the sour expression off his face. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Sleep isn't the problem," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "This is stress. Keeping tabs on Kelsie is going to give me a heart attack if I keep this up."

"Has she exhibited any signs of becoming a Diemon?" Tristan asked gravely.

"No, but that's just it," J.J. replied as he took a seat on one of the lawn chairs Susumu had out on his patio. "If she was a Diemon, I'd just have to defeat her. That'd be easy by comparison. It's the waiting and worrying that's killing me."

"You're not following her around like a stalker or anything, are you?" Susumu asked, warily, a disapproving note in his voice.

"Of course not," J.J. said, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't have time to even if I'd wanted to. Besides, her parents are usually the ones keeping an eye on her, but they can't watch her constantly, unless they intend to lock her in a room until she transforms. She's at school most of the day, and while she's still grounded for that stunt she pulled going after Dave a couple weeks ago, her parents didn't exactly set up a camera in her room to constantly monitor her."

"So why're you stressed, then, if they're watching her most of the time?" Susumu asked, turning back around as Tristan handed him a small pair of pliers.

"Well, I'm still checking up on her once in a while. I'm watching her closely for signs that she's using her D-former, and thankfully, she doesn't seem to have been… yet. But… it's like waiting for a bomb to go off when you can't even see the timer. It may never even go off, but the suspense is almost worse than the actual explosion. That's not even counting the fact that I'm expecting the Fool to show up at some point and make my life even more miserable," J.J. said bitterly.

"Why not just take her D-former, then?" Susumu suggested.

"Aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure her mother would come after me with a machete if Kelsie couldn't walk anymore? I don't know what'd happen if I sealed her powers before she turns into a Diemon," J.J. explained. "Until now, every Diemon I've beaten has avoided D-former withdrawal, something that Tristan had problems with when the Diemons were in Almencia."

"In the first war, when we attempted to simply confiscate D-formers, their wielders inevitably went mad," Tristan explained. "Even with our newfound knowledge about how to seal Diemons, there is no guarantee that the same phenomenon would not occur if we attempted it now. Despite the risks of one turning into a Diemon, the method our page here devised is the only one that has consistently preserved the minds of former Diemons."

"I'd want to test it in a controlled environment, if we had that option," J.J. said. "Preferably on myself, so no one else was at risk. But… I can't bring myself to do it to Kelsie. She's already been through enough for me to even think of risking her sanity."

Susumu stared at J.J. before asking bluntly, "Are you sure it's not just that you're still feeling guilty that she wound up in the hospital?"

J.J. winced, looking away silently for several long moments. "There's… also that," he admitted finally. "I don't know if I could bear to paralyze her again by taking away her D-former if I'm wrong about all of this. But I know that I can defeat a Diemon, should she become one." He turned back around and shrugged. "So really, all I can do now is wait for the egg to hatch, so to speak, and deal with whatever crawls out of it."

Susumu continued to stare at him, before finally letting out a sigh. "You're the one with the Driver. I just hope this is the right way to deal with it."

"So do I," J.J. said grimly. "Anyways… you said you had something you wanted to tell me?"

"Ah, right!" Susumu said, perking up instantly. "Have you been wondering what we've been doing the last several weeks?"

"Working, I'd assume," J.J. said blandly. "I noticed that Tristan has a wallet full of cash now, so I figured you'd hired him."

"Well, yeah, there is that," Susumu said. "But in our free time, I've been dragging Tristan away to help me with this." He motioned J.J. forward. J.J. stood up and walked over to their workbench, looking down at the space that had been cleared in the center of the table. Resting there was Tristan's shield-shaped badge, only it looked different. The golden edges around it were polished to a mirror sheen, and it had been scrubbed clean of dust and grime. Susumu opened the badge up, and inside, the light blue crystals were likewise polished to the point where they seemed to be glowing. J.J. looked up, hope starting to blossom in his chest.

"You got Tristan's Driver working?" he asked in a hushed voice, a grin spreading across his face.

"Well… we're close," Susumu said, holding up a hand to temper J.J.'s excitement. "You remember when you went into the catacombs beneath the Marks mansion?"

"Of course. When we opened up Tristan's father's coffin, right?" J.J. said.

"Indeed. If you recall that small box, within it were schematics on how to rebuild my own Fantasy Driver," Tristan explained, smiling faintly as he stood beside the table, his hands behind his back. "Apparently, he had foreseen that my Driver would not withstand the ravages of a thousand years, even whilst I was suspended in stasis, and so he had the foresight to have himself buried with instructions on how to repair my Driver."

"Wait… no, that doesn't make any sense," J.J. said, looking confued. "If he'd wanted you to fix the Driver, why wouldn't he just have the instructions put in _your_ coffin?"

"Perhaps disturbing my body would have interrupted the stasis. Merely touching me was how you revived me, after all," Tristan pointed out. "Besides, he correctly predicted my line of thought. I wished to know what happened to my homeland, and to that end, I sought out my father. Perhaps he anticipated that I would attempt to find him, and thus always intended to pass the instructions to me that way."

"Maybe. Still seems like a long shot," J.J. said doubtfully. "Anyways… you said you _almost_ had it working?" he asked, frowning at the Driver.

"Yeah. We need a few more parts to completely fix it, and the problem is that to make them, we need a special kind of metal that I'd never seen before. And trust me, I've worked with my fair share of metal. I think it's an alloy that only the Almencians knew how to make," Susumu said, scowling.

"Well… that sucks," J.J. said with a defeated sigh, his giddiness ebbing. Privately, he had been hoping that Tristan could finally take over so that he could be done fighting. "So what's the metal?"

"It is a metal that my father invented," Tristan explained. "Azuron. Visually, it would seem to be an ingot of iron that possesses a blue tint. It is far harder and lighter than regular steel, however."

"Why not use a substitute?" J.J. suggested. "It sounds a lot like titanium, to be honest."

"I already tried that," Susumu explained. "The Driver rejected any other metals that I used. Literally," he added, holding up what looked like a twisted stick of charcoal. "This used to be a screw made of a titanium-steel alloy."

J.J. blinked at the twisted scrap of metal before shaking his head. "So… we're out of luck, then?"

"Unless you're somehow privy to ancient Almencian forging techniques," Susumu replied, leaning on his cane as he eased himself into a chair.

J.J. let out a resigned sigh, tapping his fingers on the desk as he gazed down at the Driver. "Any thoughts on where we could find more? Like… is there an Azuron mine we don't know about?"

"Of course not," Susumu said, waving dismissively. "It's an artificial alloy, not a natural metal. You wouldn't be able to mine it."

"Perhaps your people have unknowingly used pieces of Azuron in the construction of your buildings or monuments?" Tristan suggested. "Considering the Almencian-style ruins running beneath the city, it would not be far-fetched to assume the founders of this city cannibalized pieces of Almencian architecture. There may be trace amounts of Azuron in them."

"Wait a second," J.J. said suddenly, Tristan's suggestion giving him an idea. "Why not simply ask an expert in Almencian artifacts?"

"What do you mean?" Susumu asked.

"Professor Newman," J.J. said with a grin. "That guy spent his entire life trying to dig up old bits of Almencian history. Maybe he found a few artifacts that have Azuron in them. Could we break those down if they contained Azuron?"

"…Possibly," Susumu said slowly, gazing at the Driver as well. "At least, I don't have a better idea. Tristan's father didn't give us a formula for making Azuron ourselves, so it's the best chance we have."

"That is a sound plan," Tristan agreed. "I was also going to suggest searching the ruins beneath this city, but perhaps the Professor will be able to offset the necessity of a search if he has indeed found fragments of the metal."

J.J. continued to gaze at the Driver, another idea brewing in the back of his mind. "Susumu… you said you had schematics for Tristan's Driver. Would it be… possible to create another one, if we could find you enough metal?"

Susumu blinked at him, tilting his head. "I… suppose, perhaps. It'd take me a while, and the Drivers need more materials than just Azuron. Why?"

J.J. looked down at the floor. "I was just thinking… my Driver has kept me from becoming a Diemon so far. Do you think it could do the same thing for Kelsie?"

Tristan and Susumu were silent for a long time as they pondered this idea. "It's a possibility," Susumu said finally. "Though… are you really sure that it's your Driver that's kept you human?"

"No," J.J. admitted. "But rather than waiting for her to become a Diemon, I'd rather try giving her a device that might have a chance at stopping her transformation cold. It doesn't mean she has to use it to suit up, but if just having a belt could prevent her from becoming a monster…."

"That's an interesting idea, but we've got no guarantee it'll work," Susumu pointed out. "You shouldn't get your hopes up on a hunch."

"Yeah, but I can't just let her turn into a Diemon without trying," J.J. replied. "It's a much safer route to take than tailing her until she does become a monster and having to put her down."

"I see. And suppose that we can't get enough materials to make a second Driver?" Susumu asked.

"I… don't know," J.J. admitted. "I suppose we'd just have to fall back on the original plan…"

"That is unnecessary, page," Tristan piped up. "In the event that we can repair my own Driver, Kelsie may have mine."

J.J. stared at Tristan, his mouth slightly agape. "You… would do that?" he asked softly. "I know how much your Driver means to you."

"Gladly. If it is to preserve the life of even one person, I would happily surrender my armor," Tristan said with a nod. "If she is important to you, and you truly wish to protect her, giving her my Driver is a small sacrifice. Furthermore, I am unafraid of leaving this city unprotected in my absence, as it already has a worthy guardian," he said, smiling warmly at J.J.

J.J. looked away, feeling heat rise in his face. "I… don't know what to say to that," he stammered. "But… thank you for doing this for her, if it comes to that. I can't even imagine how much of a sacrifice this is for you."

"Hopefully, it will be a moot point, should we find enough Azuron," Tristan agreed. "So let us hope our search bears fruit, shall we?"

"You two should head off to the school, then," Susumu said, glancing at the clock. "Classes should be almost over by the time you get there, so you should be able to talk to the Professor alone."

"Right. And thanks for all your hard work, Susumu," J.J. added. "You… really are a genius, you know that? I can't even imagine the kind of wizardry you had to pull to get a semi-magical device in working condition again."

"It's not fixed yet," Susumu said modestly, though he couldn't hide a slightly flattered grin. "And I still have work to do myself. So, get going!"

J.J. nodded and jogged out to his bike, Tristan on his heels. The two climbed aboard and J.J. started up the engine, speeding off towards Marville High in much higher spirits than he'd been in weeks.

* * *

Classes were indeed winding down for the day as J.J. and Tristan pulled into the parking lot of the school. Students were pouring out of the building, most heading for buses and some walking down the sidewalks. J.J. shuddered in distaste as he dismounted and looked up at the school.

"High school. Ugh," J.J. muttered.

"Does something about this building stir up bad memories?" Tristan asked curiously.

"Not for me personally, actually," J.J. said. "My mother sent me to a private school. We wore uniforms every day, had classes on the weekends, lived in dorm rooms… a very different experience than what these kids go through. But I've heard horror stories about public high schools. And _no_ teenager wants to waste their time in classes, public or private."

"I find it to be novel," Tristan replied as they walked side by side through the front doors. "Susumu explained the concept to me. Your society has the luxury of providing free education for the masses, allowing any commoner the opportunity to pursue almost any path in life. Utterly remarkable."

"That's a bit of an illusion," J.J. replied, shoving his hands in his pockets as he checked the doors for Dr. Newman's name. "It's not as if you can just go to class for four years and walk away with any job you want, especially not these days. It's gone from being a privilege to a necessity for many jobs, and even then, many places won't hire you with just a degree anymore."

"Yet you still have that opportunity," Tristan insisted. "I find it far preferable to inheriting a farm or being pressed into a hereditary trade. I was one of the lucky few who was given the opportunity to step off a path that had already been laid out for me. You, by contrast, have many paths that you could potentially travel. I do not think you fully appreciate how remarkable that is."

"It's… not as simple as that. But I see your point," J.J. added quickly as Tristan frowned at him. He wasn't in the mood to argue further, especially as he saw Dr. Newman standing in the hallway, talking to one of his students.

"…have the report done by Monday and you'll have made up all the work you missed while you were in the hospital," he was saying as they approached. J.J. tilted his head at the unusual statement, but then his eyes widened as he saw who the doctor was speaking to. The figure turned and beamed in surprise as J.J. and Tristan approached.

"J.J.! What're you doing here?!" Kelsie squealed, throwing herself into his arms. J.J. grunted and stumbled back a step. He looked down and awkwardly patted the girl's head, before gently disentangling himself from her. "Did you sneak in to come see me?" she gushed. "My parents haven't let me out of their sight for days, and I was wondering when I'd get to see you again."

"Can't say that I blame them," J.J. muttered softly. "It's good to see you too, Kelsie," he added in a louder voice, smiling down at her. However, he felt a pit forming in his stomach as he looked down at her legs. She was standing perfectly straight… because of the D-former still in her possession. That thought nagged at him like a doctor's appointment that he kept putting off.

"Mr. Wells. Sir Tristan," Dr. Newman addressed them with a bow, before straightening his tweed jacket. "Wonderful to see you gentlemen again. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Actually, we came to see you, professor," J.J. explained. "We were wondering if we might discuss something relating to your… personal academic interests."

Dr. Newman looked at him curiously for a few moments, and then recognition dawned on him. A delighted smile slowly spread across his face. "Ah! My area of expertise? I'm flattered you came to me!"

Kelsie glanced back and forth between them, a slightly confused look on her face. "Does this have something to do with the Diem-?" she began, until the three men simultaneously shushed her.

"Keep that to yourself, please, Kelsie?" J.J. insisted in a hushed voice. Straightening up, he looked over at Dr. Newman. "Ah… do you think we could discuss this in your classroom, so we won't be overheard?" He especially wanted to keep this away from Kelsie. The last thing the girl needed was to get more wrapped up in the Diemon crisis. Furthermore, he was beginning to wonder if giving her a Driver might be a bad idea. It might prevent her from becoming a Diemon, but what if it encouraged her to transform to help him? What if she wanted to become a Kamen Rider herself?

"Of course," Dr. Newman said, snapping J.J. out of his worrying and motioning for them to step inside his classroom. J.J. and Tristan followed him as he closed the door and walked over to his desk. "Now then! What-"

"Hang on," J.J. said, walking back over to the door and pulling it open. He scowled down at Kelsie, who was crouched behind the door underneath the window, trying to eavesdrop. She looked up at him and gave him a furtive grin. "Shoo!" he ordered her. Kelsie pouted at him, but spun on her heel and began walking down the hallway.

J.J. shook his head and closed the door as Dr. Newman chuckled. "Still young enough to predict the tricks of youth. I envy you, Mr. Wells. What can I do for you boys?"

"We are on a quest, Professor," Tristan stated imperiously, standing before the doctor's desk with his hands behind his back. "We are currently seeking a source of the metal Azuron in order to repair my Fantasy Driver. We were hoping that you might be able to provide some insight as to where we can obtain a sample."

"Or if you had any on you in the first place," J.J. added. "That'd really make our lives easier. Have you dug up any artifacts made of a blue metal?"

Dr. Newman gazed at the pair quietly for a few moments before taking a seat at his desk. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and sifted through them until he was holding a small copper key, which he pushed into his central desk drawer and turned. Upon opening it, he ran his hands through the contents, muttering under his breath, before grinning and letting out a soft "ah" as he found what he was looking for. Standing up, he held up a small piece of deep blue metal the size of a fingernail.

"Is this what you were looking for?" he asked.

Tristan's eyes widened, and he rushed over to take hold of the metal. He inspected it closely before looking up, excitement in his eyes. "This is Azuron! Do you have more, perchance?"

"Unfortunately, no," Dr. Newman said, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket with a heavy sigh. "I've only ever come across that one piece. I thought it was just a bit of metal that'd been chipped from some modern structure, which is why I didn't pay it much mind. It looks like blued steel, not something you would expect to find from the Middle Ages. The only reason I kept it was I thought there was a rune on it, though upon closer inspection, it just looked like a scratch mark. I figured I may as well take it with me, though," he shrugged.

"Do you remember where you found it, at least?" J.J. asked. "Maybe there's more."

"Yes, and it was in a most unusual place," Dr. Newman said, looking up at the ceiling. "I found it just outside of the stadium here in town, over a year ago. The stadium was undergoing renovations at the time, and I thought it was a good opportunity to excavate without anyone noticing. Late one evening, I took my tools and spent the night digging around the area, though I honestly didn't expect to find anything. I dug for four hours before finally hitting what seemed to be some sort of bedrock of white stone. I was intrigued, and spent next several hours trying to learn how far it extended. I managed to open up about fifty square feet of earth by the time the sun had risen, at which point the construction workers returned and saw what I'd done. The city… was not pleased, and I was given a restraining order preventing me from digging any further. I'm still not allowed to have any equipment within a hundred yards of the stadium," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Is Azuron extracted from white stone?" J.J. asked Tristan curiously.

"No. As Susumu said, it is not a naturally-occurring metal," Tristan said. "At best, it may have been used to reinforce a weaker stone, but that was uncommon, as Azuron was rare. More likely, Dr. Newman, is that you stumbled upon another of the ruins that we seem to keep finding in this city."

"As I suspected, though obviously I wasn't allowed to investigate further," Dr. Newman nodded.

"And I doubt we'd be allowed show up at the stadium carrying shovels either," J.J. sighed.

"Is it possible that we might access the ruins from another entrance?" Tristan suggested. "What if they are connected to another location, such as the catacombs beneath the Marks mansion?"

"Maybe, but I don't think we want to travel that far," J.J. cautioned. "The Marks mansion is on the other side of the city from the stadium. Even if they are somehow connected, we'd be stumbling in the dark for miles. We might not ever find a way back out. But… the library might have something. If we look under the section about the city's history, we might find sewer blueprints that we can use to get closer," he mused.

"I knew it!" a voice shrieked, startling the three men. J.J.'s expression turned sour as Kelsie bounded into the room, a triumphant grin on her face. "You _are_ looking up more Rider stuff!"

"Yes, Nancy Drew. Congratulations. You solved the obvious mystery," J.J. snarled bitingly. "And no, you're not coming with us."

Kelsie's face fell immediately. "But… I can help you!" she insisted. "I can fight-"

"There's a big difference between 'can' and 'will,'" J.J. replied firmly. "Especially when my reply is you 'will not' be accompanying us."

"You're the one who said you wanted to keep an eye on me!" Kelsie pointed out. "This way you'll know I'm staying out of trouble!"

"She has a point, page," Tristan murmured to him. J.J. swung around to glare furiously at the knight, who held up a hand. "She is not defenseless, and if she accompanies us, we may find lost Almencian technology we can present to her immediately. The longer we wait, the more likely it becomes that she could become a Diemon. You wished to pursue this path to resolve her imminent transformation. Having her with us will be more expedient."

J.J. ground his teeth. While Tristan was right, what if they ran into danger? He didn't want to encourage her to fight, especially since she would just be that much more tempted to draw on her D-former.

"Or I could go off and find some Shards to fight," Kelsie suggested airily, smirking.

"Don't," J.J. snapped, glaring at her fiercely enough that her grin faded. "Don't even joke about that."

"Sorry," she said meekly, looking at the ground. J.J. sighed.

"Fine, you can come with us. However!" he added, holding up a hand as soon as he saw a grin light up on her face. "You do not jump in to fight under any circumstances. Understand? If something goes wrong, you run. I mean it," he warned her, narrowing his eyes. "This isn't going to be like the fight against Dave. If you throw even one punch, I'm taking your D-former right then and there, because you can't be trusted with it. Understand?"

"I got it," Kelsie nodded firmly.

"We'll head over to the library," J.J. said, glancing over at Dr. Newman. "Could I trouble you to drive her? I can't fit three people on my bike."

"Of course," the professor nodded, moving to gather his things. "See you in a bit."

A half hour later, the four were crowded around a table, poring over maps of the city. J.J. grunted as he dropped another armful of charts onto the wood, shaking his head.

"This is everything we have about the city layout," he said, pawing through the stacks to try and find the oldest one. "And, of course, nothing in the city history about building the ruins."

"Naturally. If Tristan was as well hidden as you've said, the founders of the town wouldn't have wanted to advertise their subterranean city," Dr. Newman replied, flipping through a small booklet that looked like it predated the nineteenth century. Tristan, meanwhile, was looking for any scrap of the Almencian language while Kelsie languidly stared at one of the detailed maps, seeming far less interested in the documents than her chaperones. "Though… I can understand why they would want to hide Tristan if the Black Seraph was a looming threat. The question is why they built these other structures."

"If the Marks family were Almencian nobles, maybe they wanted as many reminders of home as they could bring?" J.J. suggested. "Then maybe the city was built up around it over time?"

"Like what happened with Troy? It's a possibility," Dr. Newman said thoughtfully. "This city might have looked far different two hundred and fifty years ago, before the urban sprawl took over."

"Going dungeon-diving again?" a soft voice asked behind them. All four members whirled around in fright, with J.J. quickly trying to cover the maps. However, when he saw Abby standing there, holding her arms against her stomach, he relaxed and gave her a soft smile.

"Hey there!" he said brightly as the girl brushed a strand of black hair away from her face. "I haven't seen you around the tavern lately."

"You're one to talk," she replied sharply. "You've up and disappeared over the last week or so. What gives?"

"Babysitting," J.J. replied, shooting a glance at Kelsie, who smirked up at Abby. "Been keeping this kid out of trouble, mostly. Haven't had time for much else."

"You're… one of the freshmen, right?" Abby asked, squinting at Kelsie as she tried to place where she had seen the girl. "In some of the same classes as Ryan?"

"Yep! I'm Kelsie," she replied. Abby nodded slowly before lazily looking up at J.J.

"You're up to something. Why do you need to head back underground?" she asked. "I thought you said you were done with catacombs."

"I'd love to be, but that's not really an option." J.J. briefly explained the situation with Tristan's Driver to Abby. The dark girl listened quietly, her face betraying no emotion. Once he finished, she walked over to the maps and leaned over them.

"The stadium, huh?" she said. "You're going to want the entrance near the river, then."

The others stared at her silently for several long moments. Then J.J. asked, "How… much time did you spend underground, exactly?"

"I had a lot of free time, even before I became a vampire," Abby said. "And I liked exploring."

"You didn't answer my question," J.J. said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"I can show you the entrance if you want," she continued, ignoring J.J.'s pestering. "It's easy enough to get into. Even if they changed the locks on the grate, I can get you in there."

"I'm not going to ask where you learned that skill, Miss Brooks," Dr. Newman sighed. "But I'm glad that my assistance is no longer needed."

"You don't want to come with us?" J.J. offered, a bit surprised. "I thought you'd jump at the chance to go poking around Almencian ruins."

"No. I'm afraid that I still vividly remember what happened the last time I dug too deep into Almencian lore," Dr. Newman chuckled grimly. "Adventures are for the young, and you should enjoy this one if you can. However, if you find any artifacts, please do bring them back for me. I would love to examine whatever you can recover, and perhaps I can help shed more light on Almencia's past. It's what little I can do to help you resolve this crisis we're in," he explained with a warm smile at J.J.

"We appreciate that, sir," J.J. said with a nod. He then turned to the other members of the group. "Alright then. We'll meet back here at seven. Grab anything you need for the trip. Flashlights, food, water, a compass, anything that might be helpful." He glanced at Kelsie and added, "You're staying with me. I'm going to remain here for now and keep looking over these maps, see if there's anything else that can help us. While I'm doing that, give your dad a call to let them him where you are, so your mother doesn't come after my head. If you tell him I'm watching you, hopefully he'll be fine with that. It's Friday after all, so it's not like you have school tomorrow."

"Right!" Kelsie beamed. Tristan and Abby both nodded, and they walked out the door, Tristan heading for Susumu's garage and Abby presumably returning home. J.J., meanwhile, sank into a chair and began looking over the maps again as Kelsie pulled out her phone and explained to her parents what was going on. J.J. could hear Karen screaming, and a slight smile crossed his face as Kelsie held the phone away from her ear, wincing.

"Take it outside. This is a library," he said lightly. Kelsie glared at him, but stalked outside the cathedral, giving J.J. a few precious moments of peace and quiet. She returned shortly, sighing as she stuffed her phone in her pocket.

"Mom's not happy about it, but dad talked her down. You'd think I was made of glass, the way they keep treating me," she pouted.

"You _were_ just in a major accident," J.J. commented, gazing at her sternly over the papers. "And you're relying on a D-former just to walk. They're not the only ones who're nervous right now."

Kelsie stared at him for a few moments, before asking quietly, "You're not… mad at me for using a D-former, are you?"

J.J. considered the question for a few moments. "I'm not exactly mad," he said finally, resting his chin on his laced fingers. "But I'm worried. You're not a bad person by any stretch, Kelsie, and I know you want to use that D-former for good. But… I'm kinda seeing you like a nuclear power plant right now. You've got a lot of energy at your fingertips, and you can do so much good with it. However, we also have no idea how unsafe it is. Unlike a power plant, I don't exactly have dials and switches telling me how much danger you're in." He held up his diary to her. "Even if I had your Diemon form in here, there's no stat telling me how far into your transformation you are. Plus, I've seen what those D-formers do to people, even those with good intentions. Dr. Newman nearly killed Tristan and I in the pursuit of knowledge. Irene just wanted to protect the forest, and yet you ended up getting injured. D-formers seem to have some sort of corrupting influence that makes you forget your original intentions. And… I like you, Kelsie. You're the first fan I've ever had, and I also consider you a friend. I don't want to see you get hurt because of that jewel."

Kelsie gazed at him with tears in her eyes for a few long moments before looking down at the table. "I'm not going to get hurt," she mumbled.

J.J. shook his head, smiling as he held his hand out to her. "No, because I won't let you. Come on. We have a little time. Let's get something to eat."

Kelsie nodded meekly and took his hand as he lifted her up, guiding her out of the library and leading her to the café across the street. Once inside, they ordered dinner – he had a bowl of soup and a cup of tea while Kelsie ordered a plate of macaroni and a soda – and they sat across from each other, eating in relative silence as the minutes ticked away.

"Let me ask you something," J.J. said suddenly, setting down his spoon. "Why are you so obsessed with being a hero? It can't just be from watching me."

Kelsie absently picked at her plate, as if considering her answer. "My dad's a firefighter," she said finally, looking up. "Ever since I was little, he was putting his life on the line to help people, and I always admired him for it. We're not rich, but he has people telling him all the time how important he is to them, how family members wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for what he did. I grew up wanting to have an impact on people's lives too, to help change them for the better. If, in the course of my life, I can help even one person, I feel like that'd be worth it."

"Does that extend to your hobbies?" J.J. asked, finding himself reluctantly fascinated by her reasoning.

Kelsie nodded. "It's why I got into gymnastics, and later track – I felt that I had to be in peak condition if I was going to save people for a living." She smiled ruefully as she added, "I'm not a great student or anything either, but I was told that if I could get a sports scholarship, I could get into college, which would open up more doors for me in the future. Hopefully at least one of those paths would involve helping others."

"I see. But, you know, you can be a hero in other ways-" J.J. began, but he was stopped when Kelsie glowered at him and held up a finger.

"Save it," she said sharply. "I'm not going to buy into that 'you can help by doing little things' line. Right now, the most dangerous thing in the city is the Diemons, and I have the power to do something about it. That's why I want to help you."

J.J. felt his heart sink. She sounded… just like him, he realized. That was the same line he used to justify fighting Diemons himself. Could he really refute his own logic? "You do have that power," J.J. admitted slowly. "But if you become a Diemon yourself, doesn't that defeat the purpose of helping others? If you become the problem…."

"Then I won't," Kelsie said simply. "I won't become a Diemon because I choose not to."

"That's… not how that works," J.J. said, frowning.

Kelsie waved him off dismissively. "It'll be fine. Besides, you're not really one to talk, since you're using a D-former too. Sounds a bit hypocritical, calling me out for doing the same thing you are."

J.J. gazed at Kelsie with a deep frown, wondering how much of her rationale was simple teenage arrogance… and how much was D-former corruption. For now, though, he decided to let it go, as he could tell that pressing any more was going to lead to an argument.

"You didn't tell me you did gymnastics too," he mentioned, deciding to change the subject. "What else are you into?"

"Well… I do like music. Rock, mostly," she said. "And I do read from time to time."

"What genres?" J.J. asked quickly, leaning forward as she mentioned her interest in literature.

"Romance novels, mostly," she said, and J.J. deflated slightly, trying to hide his disappointment. "I always liked the idea of a prince coming in to sweep me off of my feet." She shot a sidelong glance at J.J., grinning at him hopefully.

"Keep dreaming, girl," he said, reaching out and flicking her forehead gently. "I've got a full decade on you, and Gwen would kill me. Even if dating a fourteen-year-old wasn't already incredibly creepy."

"She _is_ really attached to you. I don't think I've seen you two together for more than five minutes without her hanging off your arm," she said, sounding annoyed.

"You get used to it," J.J. said, smiling slightly despite himself. "Don't worry. Someone's out there for you. You've got plenty of time."

"Easy for you to say. You already have a girlfriend," Kelsie sighed.

"In my defense, that was recent, and I didn't get much say in it," J.J. pointed out. Before they could continue the conversation – which was on the verge of becoming awkward – he glanced at his phone and added, "Come on, let's head back. Tristan and Abby will be returning soon."

Twenty minutes later, the two arrived carrying a total of four backpacks laden with supplies. Abby had borrowed her mother's car on the way back, so she volunteered to take Kelsie and Tristan over to the underground entrance while J.J. rode his bike. Kelsie had wanted to ride with J.J., but he'd shot down that request, though not unkindly.

"You know the way, Abby, so I'll just follow you," he said, strapping his helmet on and slinging one of the heavy packs over his shoulders. "How far is it from here?"

"About ten minutes. We'll be there in no time," she replied. She, Tristan, and Kelsie piled into her car, with Kelsie giving J.J. one last forlorn, hopeful look. He narrowed his eyes at her behind his visor, and she pouted in response before reluctantly flopping into the back seat of Abby's car. A few moments later, they were all speeding down the road to the stadium.

Traffic was mercifully sparse that evening. They traveled through the residential suburbs and turned into the city, though for a change for J.J., they didn't head towards the business district. Instead, Abby led them down the side streets towards the stadium that had been built on the west side of the city. Though Marville didn't have a major sports team, local schools and bands used the stadium, which had been generously built by one of the Marks clan members about twenty years ago. Surrounding the stadium were a number of small restaurants, though as it was past most people's dinnertime and no games or concerts were planned for the evening, there weren't very many people in the area.

Abby pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, with J.J. sidling up beside her before killing his engine. He pulled his helmet off and glanced around warily as he dismounted the bike. "Are we going to get in trouble for parking here?" he asked, nervously pulling his long hair out of its ponytail before re-tying it.

"I never have," Abby shrugged. "As long as there's not a game on, the cops don't really care if people park here."

"Cool. So, you said there was an entrance by the river?" he asked as Tristan and Kelsie stepped out of the car.

"Yeah. Follow me," she said, leading the other three across the parking lot and towards a drainage area that led into the stadium. From this distance, J.J. could see that it was a large concrete halfpipe that led into the bowels of the building, possibly connected to the sewers. When they were within about twenty yards, however, Abby suddenly threw an arm out, bringing the procession to a halt.

"Wh-?" Kelsie began, but Abby shushed her.

"Do you hear that?" she murmured. J.J. listened intently, but shook his head. Abby continued, "It sounds like stone grinding on stone. Like… something made of rock is walking around down there." She gave J.J. a pointed look.

J.J. nodded immediately, catching her meaning. He reached into his pocket and pulled his diary out. He held his hand out, and his quill flew into his hand, which he clicked and extended into its sword form. Slowly, he crept forward, the others in the group hanging back.

As he peeked over the edge of the pipe, J.J. saw figures shuffling around in the low light, and as he crept closer, he saw that they sported glowing blue lines and crystals poking out of stony grey flesh. J.J. let out a very soft tsking noise of annoyance as he gripped his sword, grateful that the Shards hadn't seen him yet. "Because of course it can't be easy," he whispered to himself.

He glanced around the area, taking stock of the situation and trying to figure out a plan. He heard movement behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the others had snuck over to find out what he was staring at.

"Looks like there's six of them," Abby said softly, glancing along the drainage area to see if there were any more that they hadn't spotted."

"Well, then that makes it easy!" Kelsie added cheerfully. "How about if you and I go down there and-"

"You and I are doing nothing," J.J. hissed softly to her, pinning the girl with a glare. "You are staying up here and keeping your hands to yourself. Now all of you, please be quiet while I figure out how I want to do this."

Kelsie pouted, but J.J. ignored her as he watched the Shards lumber aimlessly back and forth. What confused him most was why they were here. On the one hand, he might have thought that they were guarding something, but unless controlled by an active Diemon, he'd never seen them act with any sort of purpose. Usually they tended to just seek out the nearest active D-former. He shot a glance at Kelsie, but since she had yet to become a Diemon herself, there was no reason to assume that she was the reason they were in the area. Could there be a Diemon in the stadium instead? Or were these just Shards that had come up from nearby Almencian ruins? The first time he'd ever seen Shards were in the library's sub-level, after all. Did this mean they were on the right track?

Regardless, they were an obstacle, and while they might be able to sneak by, taking them out now would ensure that they weren't followed. J.J. briefly considered transforming, but he quickly realized the flashing lights and loud announcement of his transformation would give away their position, and J.J. didn't want to draw the others into a fight – especially with Kelsie looking for any excuse to join in. Furthermore, he didn't know if transforming would attract other Shards deeper in the sewers. The best way to handle this, he decided, was to take them out quickly, and without suiting up. He'd have to be smart about it, though, to make up for his lack of power. To that end, he watched the Shards wander back and forth along the bottom of the ditch, carefully noting their movements. Eventually, he realized that they were all just pacing in straight lines, and if he moved quickly enough, he might be able to drop three of them in a few seconds. The question was whether he was skilled enough to fight off the other three untransformed.

"Tristan," J.J. whispered to the knight. "I'm going to try something. If things go wrong, do not let Kelsie join in. Step in yourself if you have to, but I don't want Kelsie jumping in to help."

"As you say, page. What of Lady Brooks, though?" he added, shooting a glance at Abby.

"Don't worry about her. Abby's smart enough to stay back," he snorted, pushing himself up. He gave his sword a little twirl as he took a deep breath. Then he jumped into the drainage ditch.

The drop was only about eight feet, and J.J. had become skilled enough that he hit the concrete in a crouched stance, absorbing the impact of the drop without any pain. He'd also calculated his jump perfectly, landing lightly behind one of the Shards. Before it could turn around, he thrust his blade into its unprotected back, piercing its hard shell deep enough to reduce it to ash. He then spun to his left and sliced the throat of another Shard that had strayed too close to its comrade. A third Shard turned to look at J.J., but before it could do anything, J.J. dashed forward two steps and impaled it through the forehead with the tip of his blade. As he withdrew his sword, the Shard dissolved in front of him.

Now came the hard part, he thought to himself, as the other three Shards had been too far away for him to take out in that initial assault, and now he had their full attention. The first Shard charged at him, and J.J. had to sway out of the way to avoid a swipe of its claws that narrowly missed his throat. A follow-up strike he parried to the side before shifting to his right and delivering a quick slash. However, the strike was too shallow, only opening up a thin, glowing blue line on its flank. Worse, the other two Shards were now close enough to join in the fight as well, with one of them throwing a kick at J.J. that caught him in the chest.

J.J. grunted and rolled with the blow, wincing as his ribcage throbbed in pain. As he was unprotected by his suit, he knew that blow was going to leave a bruise. However, he didn't have time to worry about that for very long as the first Shard pressed its attack, slashing at him again with its outstretched claws. J.J. was able to duck beneath it and run by, but he came face-to-face with the third Shard, which brought both fists down on top of him.

J.J. reflexively lashed out with his blade, and he was fortunate to slice through its left wrist, the hand of the Shard falling to the ground. The right hand collided with his shoulder, but his leather jacket cushioned some of the impact, so he was again left with little more than a sore spot. The Shard silently stared at its new stump before looking back up at J.J. and swinging at him with its undamaged arm.

J.J. backpedaled towards the edge of the ditch, and once he reached the sloping ramp, he began backing up it, trying to get the high ground while holding his blade in front of him defensively. The first Shard reached him before its compatriots, but now that J.J. had turned the fight into a one-on-one duel with the high ground, he could cope. He took two steps back, avoiding a wild strike from the Shard, before suddenly darting forward and thrusting with his sword. The tip pierced the existing wound he had made in its flank, and the Shard crumbled to dust in front of him, the sandy gravel coating the ground.

The third Shard was next, and it swung at J.J. with its stump of an arm. J.J. knocked the blow aside with a quick flick of his wrist, then delivered two quick slashes to the Shard's face. Both were shallow, but they were enough to disorient the Shard and send it stumbling backwards. J.J. followed up on this, piercing it through one of its hollow eye sockets with a quick thrust. The Shard collapsed and dissolved as well.

J.J. took a breath and glanced around for the last remaining Shard, which seemed to have disappeared. A sound to his right caught his attention, and J.J. turned in time to take a hard blow to his cheek. He was sent sprawling, and he rolled down the side of the ditch into the bottom of the pipe as the Shard advanced on him. There was a loud ringing in his ears, and he groggily tried to climb to his feet as his surroundings spun around him.

"J.J.!" he heard a shrill voice call out, piercing through the ringing. He shook his head, trying to focus. "I'm coming down to help!"

"Stay up there, Kelsie!" he shouted automatically, holding his left hand up towards the ditch. "I've got this taken care of!"

"You don't! You need my help to-!" Kelsie cried.

J.J. felt a surge of irritation flash through him, which cut through his daze. Quite apart from his worry about her, he was getting tired of Kelsie assuming that he was incompetent without her backing him up. Gritting his teeth, he turned in time to see the Shard charging at him with its claws outstretched. J.J. decided to do something he rarely did. Balancing on his left foot, he brought his right foot up and firmly kicked the Shard in the chest. While it did little damage, the beast was sent stumbling backwards, and he could swear that it gave him a look of surprise even though its face was completely expressionless.

That moment gave J.J. the opening he needed to finish the fight. He dashed away from the Shard as it tried to recover its balance, and he once more climbed up the slope of the ditch, daring the Shard to come at him. The mindless creature saw him crouching above its fallen compatriots, and it immediately sprinted after him. J.J. watched its advance carefully, shifting slightly as it charged at him in a straight line. As it neared him, its rocky feet slipped on the loose remains of the other two Shards, and it tripped and hit the ground hard. J.J. grinned, as he had hoped it would do that. He ran forward before it could recover, and he drove the tip of his sword into its back, twisting the blade, before pulling it out of the Shard's body with a flourish.

As the Shard disintegrated, J.J. exhaled slowly, trying to still his heartbeat, before looking up at the three still watching from the edge of the ditch. Wearily, he waved to them and managed a slight grin. "See? No sweat," he panted.

"Says the guy who looks like he just ran a marathon while fighting off a street gang," Abby quipped, sliding down the slope of the drainage ditch to join him at the bottom. "But nice work."

"You did not equip your armor," Tristan remarked as he and Kelsie followed Abby into the bottom of the ditch. Kelsie stopped a few feet from the group, rolling her silver D-former around on her palm with a look of disappointment on her face, but then she pocketed it and hurried to join them.

"Suiting up would have taken time and attracted too much attention. I figured I could take on a few Shards without transforming," J.J. explained.

"You were reckless," Tristan admonished him, though he kept his voice low as they stood slightly apart from the girls. "That is unlike you."

"I also wanted to show Kelsie that I don't need her jumping in every time I get into a fight," J.J. added. "The less incentive she has to use her D-former, the better."

"I suppose," Tristan said, though he seemed hesitant. "For now, though, let us focus on the task at hand."

J.J. turned in time to hear a loud clanging sound as Abby stepped away from the grate, tossing a large bronze lock away unceremoniously. "Let's get moving," she said, slipping a length of wire back into her leather jacket.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Kelsie asked eagerly.

"No," J.J. said quickly, putting his hand on the girl's back and ushering her forward. "You're already getting in enough trouble. You don't need to add 'aspiring thief' to the list."

"I've never stolen anything!" Abby protested as they entered the sewers. "Aside from a few bottles of beer."

"Mmhm. And how many counts of breaking and entering are on your record?" J.J. shot back.

Abby glanced away without answering while Kelsie shadowed her in her footsteps. "Seriously, that's so cool!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not an example you want to follow, kid," Abby said morosely. As they traveled deeper into the sewers, the shadows grew darker, so she reached into her backpack and flicked on a flashlight, shining it on the path in front of them as their footsteps echoed off the damp walls of the tunnel. She was silent for a bit, before suddenly asking, "Are you enjoying that D-former?"

Kelsie blinked at Abby in surprise. "How did you-?"

"You were playing with it," Abby interrupted.

"I… was?" Abby asked, sounding confused.

J.J. and Tristan exchanged worried glances behind the two girls. She hadn't even noticed she had been toying with it? A shiver ran through J.J.'s body.

"If I were you, I would give it up," Abby said simply as they walked.

"What would you know about it?" Kelsie snapped, with more hostility than J.J. expected.

"I've been a Diemon myself," Abby replied softly. Kelsie's expression softened, and she glanced at J.J., who confirmed it with a nod. "That blue D-former J.J. uses to become a thief? That used to be mine."

"Oh. What, uh… what's it like?" Kelsie asked softly. Three heads turned towards her, and she added quickly, "So I know what to look out for, if I'm close to becoming a Diemon myself."

Abby was silent for several long moments as she considered how to explain it. "It's like… being part of a dream you can't completely control. You're aware of what it is you want, and you have a vague idea of how to get it. For me… I wanted attention, and to get that, I knew that I wanted boys to come to me. But from there… all I knew was that I was happier when boys were around me, so I kept calling more and more of them to me. All the while, that hunger for attention grew stronger, and I kept trying to feed that hunger. It was a cycle that never ended and kept growing stronger, like a wheel turning faster and faster."

"And… what about fighting J.J.?" Kelsie asked softly. "What was that like?"

"Again, I only recall flashes," Abby said. "All I remember was that someone was getting in my way, and that I needed to stop them. I remember pain, and I remember having control over my surroundings in ways I never had before – again, kind of like being in a dream, where if you want to fly, you can, but you're only vaguely aware of the sensation of flying and you're not entirely sure how you're doing it in the first place. When J.J. defeated me, it was like having cold water poured over me. All those petty desires, they seemed so… pointless in the face of the things I'd done. I'd kidnapped a half dozen guys just so I wouldn't feel so lonely. I was horrified when I realized that. And I imagine it's much the same for others who've gone through the same thing."

Kelsie gazed at Abby silently as the older girl turned towards her. "My point, Kelsie, is that no matter how important you think your desires are, no matter what your intention for using your power… in the end, you'll be consumed by that desire, and you won't be yourself anymore. Using a D-former to achieve your goals isn't worth it."

"If you… say so," Kelsie said slowly, looking down at her D-former again. "But thanks for telling me. Now I know what to look out for, and I won't let that happen."

Abby gazed at her quietly for several long moments before saying softly, "I really hope that's all it takes." She suddenly brought the group to a halt, glancing down one path for a moment, before nodding and murmuring under her breath as she led them in silence.

The walk took about five minutes, and J.J. was glad he had taken to wearing thick boots instead of the sneakers he used to wear, as they kept walking through puddles of liquid that he didn't want to even guess the contents of. All around them was the sound of dripping water and the occasional squeak of a rodent, though they were left alone by the furry denizens of the sewers. Abby seemed to know instinctively where she was going, and J.J. found himself envying her sense of direction; it would have been invaluable in that maze when they were fighting Dr. Newman, he thought bitterly.

Finally, Abby raked her light along a hole in a wall, and a pleased smile crossed her face as she murmured, "Good, they haven't closed it yet. Come on." She led them into the hole, which opened into a long hallway that seemed to be made of a different kind of stone than the concrete and brick of the sewers. The walls and ceiling were a smooth white stone that looked like some kind of limestone. Abby guided them down the hallway, but they stopped when they reached a collapsed tunnel.

"This is as far as I can take you," Abby said. "I don't know what's beyond this, since this tunnel has been collapsed for at least as long as I've known about it. If you can get past it, we can investigate further."

Tristan glanced at J.J., who nodded and pulled out his diary. "If you all would stand back?" he asked. The trio nodded, and he caught Kelsie beaming excitedly when her face was illuminated with Abby's flashlight. J.J. held his diary up to his cheek and opened it to his stats page.

"Henshin!" he called out, his voice echoing off the walls, and his Driver appeared around his waist. He slipped the book into the belt's center and spun the amber D-former in the center of the book. **"Adventure: Begin!"** the book shouted as trumpets blared, and an amber twenty-sided die surrounded him and spun rapidly as he was clad in his brown leather armor.

J.J. walked forward, now able to see perfectly in the low light thanks to his suit's enhancements, and to his relief, the cave-in was more shallow than he had feared – he could even see through to the other side. He took a few steps back, motioning for his companions to do the same, before turning around and getting a running start to charge at the fallen rubble. He turned his shoulder and slammed into it with his full force, his enhanced strength and speed allowing him to bust straight through the fallen rubble, reduing it to gravel. J.J. skidded to a halt and dusted off his suit as he turned to the others.

"Shall we?" he asked, before turning to lead them the rest of the way down the hallway. It sloped downwards, leading them deeper underground for a good five hundred feet, making it impossible for them to see what lay ahead. As they ventured onward, however, J.J. became aware of the rushing of air and a slight echo, as if they were approaching a cavern. The floor leveled out, and J.J. walked the last few feet to the end of the hallway before it opened up into a massive cave-like structure.

What J.J. beheld drew a gasp of surprise and awe that was quickly echoed by the others as they moved to join him at the exit of the corridor, their eyes widening at the sight before them.


	17. Session 17

**Session 17**

The corridor opened into a huge bowl-shaped stadium constructed of marble, reminiscent of ancient Roman gladiatorial arenas. The four were standing on the top level of the bowl, which gave them an unobstructed view of the massive cave. Glowing yellow and orange crystals illuminated the cavern, providing them with enough light to see, though it also cast everything in a dusky glow, which made everything seem almost sepia-toned. J.J. felt as if he was walking onto the set of an old gladiator movie as he slowly made his way across the smooth white floor.

Directly across from them and below them on the first level was a large booth that J.J. suspected might have been the royal box for a guest of honor – the king of Almencia, most likely. The lower levels had seats carved out of the smooth stone, though years of erosion had taken their toll on them, as many were cracked or worn down, with large pieces having long since broken off and the rubble scattered across the floor. As he reached the edge of the platform, J.J. peered into the center of the bowl. He saw that the ground was coated in fine dust or sand. Along the edges of the pit were four iron gates, which were suffering from years of rust, yet remained solid and imposing. It was a truly awe-inspiring sight. J.J.'s mind reeled, trying to figure out how such an enormous structure had gotten here in the first place, and what purpose it could possibly serve. Why would the founders of Marville make this, and then bury it?

Beside him, he heard a hoarse voice whisper, "This… is impossible…!"

J.J. turned to see Tristan staring, wide-eyed, across the arena. His head slowly swiveled back and forth as he scanned the area, looking stunned. In fact, J.J. couldn't remember ever seeing Tristan so shaken.

"You doing okay there?" J.J. asked.

"I… cannot believe this! These are the Almencian training grounds!" Tristan exclaimed.

J.J. frowned at him behind his helmet, turning to look back at the arena. "Really? Training grounds? This… kinda looks like the Roman Colosseum to me."

"Well… yes, because it is," Tristan corrected himself. "The capital city had an amphitheater that was built by the Romans centuries before my time. However, the spectacle of warriors fighting for sport died out shortly after the Roman Empire did. That said, we did not wish to demolish such a valuable structure, so we instead converted the arena into a training ground for future guardsmen, complete with an armory and a barracks."

"Really? And this is the same design as your city's arena? Couldn't it just be based off of Roman arenas in general?" J.J. suggested.

"Perhaps. However, consider that much of what we have uncovered in this city thus far was directly influenced by the Almencians, not the Romans, since the Marks family takes pride in its Almencian heritage," Tristan pointed out. "There is no reason to assume otherwise. It is my opinion that the Marks family likewise sought to recreate the specific arena that stood in Almencia. Though… if they went through the trouble of constructing it, why was it hidden?" Tristan asked.

"I was wondering that too. Maybe they didn't want to attract attention?" J.J. suggested with a shrug. "It'd be a little hard to justify a city having its own Colosseum, especially since Marville was founded shortly after the Revolution. A gladiatorial pit would kind of stand out in early America."

"Perhaps… but then for what purpose was it built in the first place?" Tristan pointed out. "This would be an expensive endeavor in the first place, but why go through all the trouble of constructing it if none used it?"

"Well… alright, what about this?" J.J. said in a thoughtful tone as they began to walk down the stairs towards the center of the arena. "We found you buried underground, right? Put there by the Order of the Shield, if I recall? Let's assume that the Order of the Shield was created after the fall of Almencia to preserve you until you could take on the Black Seraph again. Suppose that you woke up naturally, which the diary suggested you might have done anyways, before I found you. After a thousand years, you would have needed to train to get back in shape. So…maybe they made this arena in secret to give you a place to train, until you were fit enough to head back up to the surface and fight the Seraph again. Or, barring that, maybe they expected the Order of the Shield to survive, and this was intended to be a secret training ground for future knights?"

Tristan stared at him. "That is… a theory, but a weak one," he said unsurely.

"I know. It's all I've got right now," J.J. shrugged. "If we found a passageway connected to the undercroft of the library, maybe that would confirm it. Though… in that case, I don't know why they wouldn't have neon signs pointing you to it, telling you 'come train here.' Honestly, I can't think of a single good explanation. This is just an oddity, no matter which way you slice it."

"Even so, it's incredible!" Kelsie exclaimed, looking around. "I never would've imagined something like this was buried under the city! Is this what you two have been doing for the last several weeks, digging underground and finding things like this?!"

"We've been poking through ruins, yeah. But we've never come across anything like this," J.J. admitted. "So… do you think we could find Azuron here, Tristan?"

"It is… theoretically possible," Tristan replied slowly. "If your assumption is correct, then perhaps the Order of the Shield would have stocked weaponry that would be effective against future Diemons. To that end, it is possible that some of those weapons are comprised of Azuron.

"Alright, so then where would we find those weapons?" Abby asked.

"You said that this place had an armory?" J.J. asked.

"If this is indeed a reconstruction of the Almencian training grounds, then yes," Tristan nodded. "Though I am uncertain of the accuracy of the re-creation. I would be able to locate the armory of the arena I trained in, but there is no guarantee that the armory for this building will be in the same location."

"We could split up and look for it!" Kelsie exclaimed. "I call being part of J.J.'s group!"

"Yeah, no," J.J. scowled at her. "First rule of tabletop gaming: Never split the party. Especially when the other members of the party can't defend themselves if Shards attack."

"I can defend myself!" Kelsie said petulantly.

"I'm not saying you can't, but Abby's not a Diemon anymore, so she'd be out of luck. And I don't want you to have to defend yourself anyways," J.J. replied calmly. Turning to Tristan, he added, "Besides…I kinda want to have you give us a tour. This place looks deserted, and since we have the chance, I'd like to hear more about your life."

"Certainly!" Tristan smiled, motioning for them to follow him. The group shadowed Tristan down the stairs towards the bottom of the arena. When his feet touched the sand, Tristan exhaled slowly and looked around, a smile spreading across his face.

"This… is certainly familiar," he murmured to himself, slowly walking out onto the sandy field as the others followed him. "At dawn every morning, we were made to stand as a unified legion, like the Romans of old, while our officers paraded around us. Sometimes they would give tasks to be completed before we were permitted to eat, while other times they would simply dismiss us.

"Occasionally the king himself would make an appearance, merely to gaze upon his future warriors, and we were expected to provide him with an impromptu spectacle. After a parade, two of us would be equipped with training blades and told to spar for his entertainment. I was selected once, and I managed to best my opponent, though it was a strange battle. Neither of us sought a killing blow; rather, we competed to see who could put on the better show for the king. When my opponent fell to a backhanded strike I had never attempted before, I looked up to see the king smiling down at me with approval. In that moment, I felt that I truly understood how the gladiators felt as Caesar gazed upon them."

Tristan glanced over his shoulder to see the other three gazing at him quietly. He let out a little chuckle, shaking his head. "Though afterwards, Sir Agnar chastised me roundly for not simply dispatching my opponent as efficiently as possible. The king may have wished for a show, but the most assuring guarantee of his protection would have been a swift victory, not a martial spectacle with little substance. Afterwards, I was made to polish every blade in the armory to remind me that a weapon was a tool to be respected, not a toy to be played with."

"It sounds like you're homesick," Abby commented softly.

"Not to the degree I once was," Tristan assured her, motioning for them to resume following him. "I was merely reminiscing. In any case, the north end of the arena was where the barracks were located, and that was where we kept our weapons and armor. We should search that area first."

"Great. Tell us which way north is," J.J. pointed out. "Because if you can figure that out underground without the sun or a compass to tell you, I will eat my diary."

Tristan opened his mouth, then closed it, looking sheepish. "Ah… then… let us simply take that entrance," he said meekly, pointing to one of the large gates.

J.J. grinned as he led the way to the gate. As they neared it, he realized that the rust coating the gate was much thicker than it had seemed from a distance, and he worried that it might not budge. Tristan, however, walked over to a lever, and though he strained against the rusted joints as he pulled on it, it finally gave way. There was a loud, shrieking groan, and then the gate slowly opened high enough for them to walk inside.

The interior of the arena's lower level was likewise lit with glowing yellow-orange crystals, revealing a massive open room. The ceiling was low, to the point that J.J. had to walk slightly stooped over. Several wooden bedframes were lined up against the walls, but none had mattresses. Each also had weapon racks spaced between every other bed, with rusted steel weapons hanging from pegs and leaning against shelves.

"Looks like you guys had some sort of buddy system going," J.J. commented as he walked over to one of the racks to inspect the weapons.

"You are correct. We were assigned a partner on our first day," Tristan said as he picked up a rusty sword and frowned at it. "Partners were made to eat meals together, sleep near one another, share equipment…."

"Who was your partner?" J.J. asked.

"A man by the name of Rufus," Tristan replied, inspecting each rack for usable weapons. "Sadly, he was slain in one of the earliest Diemon attacks. He was a good friend. In fact, it was his younger brother, Devon, that I eventually took as my squire, partially to honor his memory," Tristan said, looking pensive.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to bring up a bad memory," J.J. said softly. Tristan shook his head, showing that he didn't mind. "Anyways… there's no sign of Azuron, is there?" J.J. asked, running his gloved hand along a dulled spear point.

"It would seem that is the case," Tristan agreed. "Though I suppose I should have expected as much. Azuron would likely not have been used in the weaponry of common soldiers."

"So why'd you suggest the barracks?" J.J. asked, frowning.

"I had hoped that technology had advanced sufficiently that perhaps such weapons were common, and that we would stumble across a treasure trove of Azuron weapons. Clearly, I was mistaken," Tristan sighed. "In any case, since that idea was incorrect, we should next inspect the officers' quarters. If anyone would have had Azuron weapons, it would be the officers."

Before J.J. could reply, Abby held up a finger, shushing them. "Do you hear that?" she asked softly.

The others went still, straining to hear, but J.J. couldn't hear anything aside from the occasional whistling of the wind through the empty marble halls.

"It sounded like someone was shuffling around," Abby murmured. "Though I might be hearing things."

"No… honestly, I'd be more surprised at this point if there wasn't something down here with us," J.J. replied grimly. "Everyone, tighten up, just in case we get attacked." He hesitated for a moment, then turned his sword around and presented it, hilt-first to Tristan. "Just in case we run into any Shards," he added softly. "I'll be fine bare-handed against a few of them, and I'd rather have you watching the girls' backs if we get surrounded."

Tristan nodded solemnly and took the sword. Kelsie scowled for a moment, but didn't say anything.

"Follow me, if you would," Tristan said. The group fell in step behind him as he led them out of the room and up the stairs towards the first level of the arena. They followed Tristan around the walkway, towards the central box where J.J. had suspected the king would watch them. Looking closely, J.J. could now see that there was a large room behind the box.

"How many officers were there overseeing the arena?" J.J. asked to break the silence as they walked.

"There were four. The arena master – in my time, a man named Domitian – oversaw the daily operations of the training ground, and his second-in-command was a veteran guard named Justin. There was also the quartermaster, named Basil, and the galley chef, Arthur," Tristan replied. "Of course, Sir Agnar also frequently arrived to personally train us as well, and he was given the respect due an officer. There was little else for him to do, as we experienced few wars, after all," he explained with a nostalgic look on his face.

Once they arrived in front of the stone doors, Tristan and J.J. each took one door and pushed inward at the same time. The doors groaned, stubbornly refusing to move, but the two men were eventually able to force them apart. Dirt was kicked up into the air, and Tristan coughed while J.J. strode into the room, his suit allowing him to breathe naturally despite the dust.

J.J. looked down at the ground to try to avoid stepping in more dust than he needed to, but he paused and held up his hand, pointing. There were footprints in the dust near the entrance, and they looked relatively fresh.

"Someone else has been down here," Abby said softly. J.J. glanced at her, but she held up her hands. "Not one of my crew!"

"Hm. Everyone, keep your guard up, then," J.J. said, looking up from the floor to gaze around the room.

The officer quarters were far more lavishly decorated than the barracks, though that was to be expected. Shields were hung on the walls depicting various heraldic devices, interspersed with colorful tapestries that all assumed a dull orange glow in the light of the hanging crystals. The rest of the floor was covered with a plush, ornate rug, and two large beds with silken sheets were pushed against each corner of the room. More importantly, however, was that when J.J. looked to his left and right as he stepped into the quarters, he saw two large stone coffins – exactly the same coffins as the one he had revived Tristan from.

However, only one of the coffins was still intact. The other had been damaged; a large chunk of stone had fallen from the ceiling some time ago and crushed the top half of the sarcophagus. J.J. couldn't see a body, but he doubted that whoever was inside would have survived, even with the magical stasis they had been put under.

Tristan hurried into the room after J.J., and his reaction was much the same – surprise at the presence of the coffins, then a look of pity when he noted that one of the inhabitants had almost certainly been killed. J.J. walked over and lightly squeezed the knight's shoulder as he saw Tristan's expression.

"It's alright, page," Tristan assured him. "It was most likely a death they were unaware of. Stasis is like being asleep, so in this case, our friend here simply did not awaken. At the very least, he did not suffer."

"…What are these doing here?" J.J. asked after a moment of silence. "Why would they go through the trouble of bringing more Almencians here?"

"Allies, perhaps?" Tristan suggested hopefully. "Perhaps these two were warriors that survived the destruction of Almencia and were placed in stasis to assist me upon my revival. Your theory that this arena was meant to help retrain me may have more weight than I initially suspected. I had thought it foolish supposition."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," J.J. said drily. However, he was also apprehensive. "Still… should we really open that? Remember what happened last time we opened coffins?"

"I do recall that we awakened two figures…." Tristan said slowly.

"Yeah. And I'm willing to bet one of them was the Fool," J.J. pointed out, scowling behind his helmet. "Plus, even though we still have no idea who the other one was, if he was paired with the Fool, I doubt he had our best interests at heart. Do we really want to risk that happening again?"

"I admit that there is risk," Tristan agreed as Abby and Kelsie walked into the room behind them. "However, you were also the one that insisted we undertake this endeavor to seek another source of Azuron. Perhaps this coffin contains some, or perhaps whomever is inside can direct us to it. Either way, this may be our best chance to uncover it. Besides, you are far more capable than you were during the prior incident. I am confident in your ability to handle whatever rests within."

"See, now _there's_ a proper vote of confidence," J.J. replied, letting out a soft laugh. "Alright."

Putting both hands on the lid of the coffin, he grunted and pushed. The stone cover scraped loudly against the rim of the coffin before sliding off and landing on the ground with a heavy thud. Inside was a figure protected by shimmering crystal identical to what he found Tristan encased in. J.J. started to extend his hand, but hesitated and glanced over his shoulder at Tristan. Tristan nodded once, and J.J. swallowed before plunging his hand through the thin sheet.

Immediately, there was a sound like breaking glass, and the crystal splintered apart, dissolving into thin air. Instantly, the figure's eyes opened, and he sat straight up, inhaling sharply. The man seemed to be in his early forties. He was dressed in a blue tabard, white hosen, and black leather boots, with a short sword hanging at his waist. His head sported short, curly brown hair, and his green eyes swept across the room furtively. He put his hand on his sword as he spotted J.J. in his suited form, but then he paused as he noticed Tristan. His eyes widened in surprise, and then his face settled into a slight smile. Tristan, meanwhile, beamed and held a hand out to the man.

"Captain Justin!" he exclaimed. "It has been… far too long."

"Sir Tristan," Justin replied with a cordial nod, seeming far less enthusiastic to see Tristan, but he took the knight's hand nevertheless and allowed himself to be pulled out of the coffin. He looked around the room and frowned at the state of disrepair it was in. "It would seem Quintus' experiment was successful. Though this would mean… the Black Seraph has risen again?"

"Sadly, that is indeed the case," Tristan nodded.

"I see," Justin said, his expression unreadable. He then turned to J.J. and nodded. "And I see you have your squire, Devon, with you again. Well met once more, boy."

"Ah…." J.J. said uncomfortably.

"This is not Devon," Tristan explained quickly. "This is a young man by the name of J.J., to whom I owe my own revival. He has claimed my squire's powers and is the newest warrior to fight against the Black Seraph."

"Truly?" Justin asked, looking J.J. up and down. "Is he your new squire, then?"

"That he is not. Though he is a page," Tristan added.

"Tristan, I swear to god," J.J. growled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tristan smirk, which made him tilt his head. Was Tristan teasing him? Since when did he do that?

"You seem a touch old to be a page," Justin commented. "But very well. As Tristan has already said, I am Justin, the second-in-command of this training arena. I-" His next sentence was cut off, however, when he saw the crushed coffin. His eyes widened. "Sir Domitian…." He whispered.

"It would seem that Sir Domitian's life was tragically cut short," Tristan said somberly.

"That it would," Justin murmured. A muscle twitched in his jaw, then he sighed and looked up at Tristan. "I suppose that this means the training arena is now under my command. How might I assist you?"

"We are seeking a source of Azuron, and we were hoping that perhaps there might be weapons that contain the metal here," Tristan explained. "However, the armory was sadly devoid of it."

"Since this is not Almencia's arena, I cannot say where you might find more," Justin admitted. "However, I am surprised that you searched the armory first. Did you think we would be so foolish as to give raw recruits our most valuable weapons?" he added, smirking at Tristan in a rather condescending fashion. "Was that how we trained you?"

"Well… no," Tristan admitted, seeming taken aback by Justin's sudden hostility.

"So then do you know where we can find the metal or not?" J.J. snapped. Justin's attitude was already raising his hackles.

"Still your tongue, boy," Justin hissed. J.J. felt a flash of anger, but he took a breath to calm himself. Justin walked past him towards the back wall, muttering to himself, "Let us see how faithfully they reconstructed this…."

The arena master began pushing around bits of the wall, murmuring to himself, until he seemed to spot what he was looking for, as he let out a soft "ah." His fingernails slipped into a nearly invisible crack, and he pulled back with a soft grunt, revealing a false panel that had been hidden in the wall. As he pulled it aside and dropped it to the floor, the others watched as Justin reached inside and withdrew something. With a smirk, he turned around and flourished a short gladius made of deep blue steel.

"The highest-ranking officers of Almencia were granted these swords near the end of the war with the Black Seraph," Justin explained, gazing at his reflection in the blade. "There was not sufficient time to equip every soldier with one, and we certainly did not have access to the armor Tristan's father made, but it was hoped that the most experienced knights and generals might be enough to hold off the rising tide of the Black Seraph's minions. Sadly, it would seem that was not the case, but I am glad to see that at least one blade survived."

"Truly, it is a marvel," Tristan murmured. "May we have it?"

Justin's smile faltered, and he looked at Tristan suspiciously. "To what end?" he asked slowly. J.J. noticed that he pulled the blade a bit closer to his chest, holding it possessively.

"During my stasis, my Driver – the armor that my father gifted me – was damaged, and we require Azuron to repair it," Tristan explained. "With it, we could restore a weapon that is far superior to a mere blade."

"And… you would melt down my sword?" Justin asked, narrowing his eyes.

"If there was any other choice, we would not ask this," Tristan insisted, though he was looking bewildered at Justin's reluctance to hand over the sword. "Is a mere blade worth keeping when it could serve the war effort more effectively in another capacity?"

"It is not merely that I wish to have the blade," Justin explained, drawing the shortsword at his belt and tossing it to the floor before sliding the blue sword into the scabbard instead. "It is what it represents. It is a symbol of the master of the arena. A position that I strove for years to achieve."

"No one's saying you can't run the arena," J.J. piped up. "We just need that sword."

Justin whirled on J.J., narrowing his eyes. He stalked over to J.J. and stood inches from him, peering up into his masked face. "And for that matter, who are you to use armor that once served Almencia?" he snarled. "Does Almencian blood run through your veins?"

"That does not matter," Tristan growled, stepping between the two men and pushing Justin back firmly. "J.J. has fought valiantly for several months against the Black Seraph's forces. I say he is worthy of using Devon's Driver."

"Indeed? And suppose that I disagree with that assessment , _Sir_ Tristan," Justin snapped. "Perhaps I wish to see his abilities for myself, to judge whether he is worthy of serving in this war. I cannot, after all, surrender this blade to a half-tested child playing at war."

"Half-tested?!" Kelsie snapped suddenly, storming up to Justin and glaring up into his face. "J.J.'s been fighting monsters for weeks while you've been napping! Who the hell are you to decide if he's worthy or not?!"

J.J. smiled faintly behind his helmet despite himself, and he walked up behind Kelsie and lightly touched her shoulder. "Kelsie, thank you. It's okay," he said softly. He then looked up at Justin, narrowing his eyes. "If you don't think I'm worthy, then that's fine. Don't give it to me. Give it to Tristan. He's the one who needs the Azuron, after all, and he's got to be more than worthy, right?"

Justin faltered, unable to refute J.J.'s logic. Still, he clutched the sword to his chest even more tightly.

Tristan walked forward, staring into Justin's eyes. "Justin, I am willing to concede the position of arena master if it is that important to you. However, if you are truly a servant of Almencia, you know that the Black Seraph is our enemy, and that you are duty-bound to aid us in stopping him in any way you can. And right now, the way you can fulfill your duty is by lending us that blade."

Justin glared at Tristan, standing up straighter. "My duty, you say? What would you know of it, boy?" he snapped. "You were granted privilege after privilege simply because your father was friends with the court alchemist. Even though you were a mediocre warrior, you were granted one of the few suits of armor your father made simply because you were his son. You were always one step from being nobility yourself, and you never had to fight for your position.

"As for me, I languished for decades in the shadow of Domitian. I was a far superior fighter than him, yet he jealously guarded his position as arena master, even as he was reaching sixty years of age. Now that he's gone, the arena is mine, and this sword is likewise mine by right. I will not surrender it to some upstart whelps because their equipment failed! That is your failure, Tristan, not mine! I care only for the state of the arena, as that is my domain! Anything else is your problem!"

"Then duel me," Tristan stated coldly. J.J.'s eyes widened as Tristan slid one of his gloves off of his hand and struck Justin across the face with it. The arena master's head snapped to the side in surprise, and he gingerly touched his cheek while staring wide-eyed at Tristan. "I, Tristan, son of Ignatius, hereby declare an official challenge. I submit that you are unworthy of the title of arena master, and that upon my victory, you will relinquish it and your sword of office."

Justin's face had gone purple with rage, and J.J. and Kelsie were staring at the pair with looks of shock, though Abby seemed almost bored.

"Have you gone mad, boy?" Justin whispered, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly enough that his knuckles turned white.

"Clearly. Are you too cowardly to fight a madman?" Tristan asked calmly. "If not, then accept the duel."

"You ask me to stake my position on this duel. What if I emerge victorious?" Justin asked in a dangerously soft voice.

"You covet my armor? Should you win, I shall surrender it to you," Tristan replied.

J.J.'s eyes widened, and he grabbed Tristan by the shoulder. "Hang on! We can't let Kels-!" J.J. caught himself before saying any more, though he saw Kelsie looking at him curiously out of the corner of his eye. "We can find other sources of Azuron, Tristan," J.J. said in a low voice. "This isn't a risk you should take. He's not just boasting about his skill, is he?"

"No," Tristan replied softly. "Justin is indeed a magnificent swordsman."

"Then why the hell did you challenge him?!" J.J. cried. "I swear to god, if you say it was for honor…!"

"Partially, yes," Tristan said calmly. "Justin is unworthy of inheriting the title of arena master. It is an honorable, prestigious position."

"Tristan…!" J.J. growled.

"But this was not a rash decision," Tristan added with a smile. "I would not issue this challenge if I did not believe that I would win. He shall not best me, I can assure you. Time is of the essence, and this is the fastest, easiest path to obtaining the Azuron we need. Besides, as you said, I am the one who requires it. Thus, I should be the one who obtains it. And this is the path I'm choosing."

"And what if you lose?" J.J. hissed. "What're you going to do if you wind up giving one of the most valuable tools we have in this war to this… title-obsessed idiot?"

"I will not lose," Tristan said simply. There was no hint of boasting in his voice; rather, it was brimming with so much confidence that J.J. found himself almost believing in Tristan, despite the risk.

"Are you two quite finished?!" Justin roared. "A challenge, once declared, cannot be rescinded!"

"I assure you, I have no intention of rescinding my challenge," Tristan replied softly. "Are the terms I have presented to you acceptable?"

"I, Justin, son of Antonius, accept your challenge and find the terms agreeable," Justin growled. "We shall fight until one of us yields or lies dead. Should a yield be given, the victorious party must accept it. As the challenged, I declare that we shall fight in the arena," he said, jerking his head towards the central floor. "I grant you the privilege of choosing our weapons."

"Bold," Tristan commented thoughtfully. "Usually the challenged wishes to choose their weapons, not the location."

"The arena is my domain," Justin repeated. Something about the way he kept insisting on that unnerved J.J. "Choose your weapons."

"Blades," Tristan replied. "I shall allow you to use the blade of the arena master. Cherish it, as it shall not be yours for long," he added, smirking as Justin's face screwed up with fury. Glancing over at J.J., he asked softly, "Will you grant me the honor of using your sword?"

"Do what you've gotta do," J.J. sighed, rubbing his faceplate like he'd be rubbing his eyes while holding his sword out with his left hand. "Not like I can stop you at this point anyways, can I?"

"You cannot," Tristan agreed, with just a hint of smugness as he took the sword. "You have my gratitude."

"Just don't lose. If you're about to lose, let him kill you. Because if he doesn't, I'm going to do it myself," J.J. warned him.

"I shall keep that in mind," Tristan chuckled, before turning to Justin. That last bit of humor in his eyes evaporated, and he turned to Justin with a look of iron determination. "To the floor then?"

"To the floor." Justin glanced at J.J., jabbing a finger in his direction. "You. You are not a knight of Almencia, but you wear our armor, so you are the closest we have. Once we are in position, give the signal to begin the duel."

"Should I referee… judge as well?" J.J. asked, changing his choice of words when he saw Justin's confused expression.

"No. You are not an impartial party, so it would not be proper. Nor shall there be a need, as we already stated the terms of our duel. Simply give the signal when we announce that we are ready," Justin told him. J.J. nodded, and the two knights departed, heading down the stairs and walking out onto the arena floor.

J.J., Kelsie, and Abby walked out onto the balcony of the king's booth, all of them leaning over the side to get a good view of the two fighters. They strode out onto the sand, walking side by side, neither looking at the other. When they reached the center of the arena, both stopped and held their blades in front of them in a quick salute. They then turned to J.J. and saluted him as well, before turning to face each other, dropping into their respective ready stances.

J.J. watched them for a moment, his heart hammering as he wondered whether he was about to send Tristan to his death by going along with this. But… he had to believe in him, J.J. told himself. He took a deep breath, then yelled out across the arena.

"Fighters ready?" Justin and Tristan both nodded, their eyes never leaving each other's as they stood stock-still twenty feet from each other. J.J. hesitated for one last moment, then barked, "…Begin!"

Despite J.J.'s command, both fighters remained still, eyeing each other and waiting to see who would make the first move. Justin tentatively crept forward, starting to circle around Tristan to see if he could find an opening. Tristan remained in place, pivoting and keeping his sword in front of him in a defensive stance, patiently waiting for Justin to attack, while above them, J.J., Kelsie, and Abby watched with bated breath.

As J.J. had expected, though, it was Justin who finally struck first. He shifted forward, testing the limits of Tristan's defense with a probing stab, which Tristan batted away easily. Justin stepped a bit closer, stabbing again, and then adding in two more quick slashes. Tristan, however, continued to remain on the defensive, simply parrying the blows without counterattacking.

"What's he doing?" Kelsie whispered irritably. "Attack, Tristan!"

J.J. shushed her, not wanting anything to distract him from the fight. Justin continued to probe Tristan's defenses cautiously, throwing in another strike, but this time, Tristan swatted the blow away and responded with a quick slash of his own. Justin leapt backwards, the limited range of J.J.'s sword preventing Tristan from landing a proper hit, and Justin smirked, noting this as well.

With that in mind, Justin began to press his attack. The short range of the blades meant both men had to get in close, and from this distance, it almost seemed more like a boxing match than a sword fight. Justin attacked Tristan aggressively, throwing flurries of blows at the knight. However, he never let himself get out of control. While Justin did press his offense more than J.J. thought wise, he never let himself get drawn too far into Tristan's space. When it seemed like he might, Justin would inevitably take a step back and reset himself before launching another attack.

Tristan, on the other hand, was a bastion of defense. He barely moved from his spot, holding his ground even under the furious assault. To J.J., the contrast between his sword style and Tristan's was fascinating. J.J. preferred to dodge and sway out of the way of attacks, but Tristan met every attack head-on, blocking and parrying them while moving very little. It was a surprisingly daring technique that required intense concentration and far more experience than J.J. had, and he found himself admiring Tristan's skill in a way he never had when he had been the one fighting. Viewing it from the outside, it struck J.J. just how skilled of a warrior Tristan was.

"Seriously!" Kelsie cried, snapping J.J.'s concentration away from the fight. "Tristan is getting pummeled out there! He's going to lose if this keeps up!"

J.J. turned back to the fight, folding his arms over his chest. He watched for a few moments more before he slowly began smiling behind his helmet. "Is that how it looks?" J.J. asked quietly, glancing over at Kelsie while keeping one eye on the fight. "Look closely."

"All I see is Tristan constantly having to defend!" Kelsie insisted.

"That's just Tristan's style," J.J. explained as he watched his mentor continue to knock aside strike after strike. "If you look closely, he hasn't taken a single hit yet."

"That's going to change if he doesn't do anything but block!" Kelsie insisted.

"Usually, yeah," J.J. agreed. "But I think I get what he's doing. You remember what I said earlier about how this arena might have been constructed to let Tristan train after being frozen in stasis for a thousand years?" When Kelsie nodded in response, J.J.'s smile widened behind his helmet. "Tristan's probably fighting with that in mind. He would know better than anyone how tired he was when he stepped out of the coffin. Justin's probably feeling the same way right now. There's no way someone wouldn't be stiff after a thousand years.

"Meanwhile, Tristan's had a few months to get back in shape while he was training with me. I'm nowhere near the level where I can call myself a reliable sparring partner for Tristan, but it's been good exercise for him if nothing else. He's in pretty good shape right now. So what does that mean?"

Kelsie turned back to the fight, frowning. "He's… trying to wear Justin down?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yep. I can tell you from my own experience, fighting for this long wears you out. Even if Justin is a more skilled fighter and remembers all of his moves, his body can't keep up. If you look closely, he's already starting to tire," J.J. said.

As if to confirm his words, the singing of the blades started to become less frequent as Justin's strikes became labored. His swings became longer and wilder, yet Tristan continued to block them, patiently turning each blow aside. Justin's face was turning red from a combination of increasing fatigue and increasing anger, and he pressed the attack even harder.

"Is that why Justin came out of the gate swinging?" Kelsie asked.

"Maybe," J.J. agreed. "Maybe he wanted to end the fight quickly before he got worn out. Maybe he thought he could just best Tristan on sheer skill, banking on himself being a superior swordsman."

"He's almost beaten, though," Abby chimed in. "Tristan could start fighting back."

J.J. looked closer and saw that she was right. Justin was definitely laboring, but Tristan still continued to defend; he hadn't launched a proper attack since the fight began.

"Mmm… I can think of two reasons why he's not attacking. One, Justin is still an excellent swordsman," J.J. explained. "Tristan might be wary of a counterattack, especially if Justin is just faking how tired he is. He wants to be sure Justin is completely worn out before he starts attacking."

"And the other reason?" Abby asked.

"Tristan's probably not trying to fight to the death," J.J. said. "I think he wants to beat Justin non-lethally if he can. To do that, though, he has to push Justin to the brink of exhaustion before he disarms him. It's a lot easier to kill someone than to force a submission. Especially since Justin isn't showing him the same courtesy," he added grimly. "Justin, at least, is aiming to kill."

The fight continued for another minute, by which point Justin was sagging and screaming at Tristan to fight back. Tristan held the blade up to his mouth, and from this distance, J.J. could see Tristan whispering something. Then he finally attacked.

With Justin barely able to raise his arm, Tristan suddenly slashed viciously, cutting Justin across the chest. The blade bit deep into his skin, but didn't cut it – Tristan had apparently asked J.J.'s sword to blunt itself. Justin let out a cry as the wind was forced from his lungs, and he staggered backward, holding his own sword in front of him weakly. Tristan advanced on him, bashing down on Justin from above with a single, powerful blow. The blunted edge of J.J.'s sword slammed into Justin's wrist with a sickening crack, and Justin let out a cry of pain as the blue gladius clattered into the sand.

Tristan followed this up with a hard left hook into Justin's jaw, sending the arena master sprawling into the dirt. Justin panted in the dust as Tristan put his foot on his chest, holding the blade to Justin's throat. "Yield!" Tristan shouted at him.

"I…." Justin hesitated, glaring defiantly up at Tristan.

"The fight's over, Justin," J.J. called out. "Surrender."

Justin looked down at the sword a few feet from him, then roared at Tristan, "No! The arena is mine! I worked too hard for this position, and I shall not surrender it to an upstart whelp! You call yourself a knight of Almencia?! Show me then, Tristan! Show me how you fought against the monsters of old!"

Justin reached into a pouch on his belt, and Tristan's eyes widened as Justin withdrew a pale yellow D-former. In that moment of distraction, Justin kicked Tristan's leg out from under him, knocking the knight back. Justin sneered, and before Tristan could react, he gripped the D-former tightly. He was engulfed in a brilliant flash of yellow light that made everyone shield their eyes and look away briefly, and when they lowered their hands, Justin's form had changed completely.

Standing before Tristan was a massive half-horse, half-human creature, roughly seven feet tall at its highest. The upper half of the Diemon was human, though its skin was a sickly pale yellow color. Its head was covered in a Corinthian helm, complete with the horsehair plume of a centurion. Its torso was bare, revealing sculpted muscles rippling beneath its sallow flesh. From the waist down, the monster was equine, standing on four hooves the size of dinner plates. Its short hair was the very light blond of a palomino horse, and a long, pale tail flicked idly behind it, as if warding off flies.

Justin's eyes were obscured by the helmet, but his mouth was still visible, and it curled up into a cruel grin as he reared back and kicked Tristan square in the chest with his front legs. Tristan grunted loudly from the blow, sprawling backwards into the dirt as Justin stood over him.

"It is amusing how fate weaves our paths, is it not?" Justin commented idly, pinning Tristan's arms under his massive hooves. Tristan yelled in pain as Justin held him down, but Justin seemed oblivious to his screams. "Originally, I had intended to use this form to assassinate Domitian when we next awoke, leaving me in sole command of the arena. He was long overdue to surrender it to me, after all. Yet, fate decreed that I was the one to inherit the arena after all, when it fortuitously slew him for me. However… you arrogantly assumed that after waiting for over a thousand years that I would permit you to steal what is mine by right? You-!"

Before Justin could continue, however, he was interrupted by a leather boot colliding with the side of his head. Despite his weight and stability, he was knocked off-balance by the blow, stumbling off of Tristan, who scrambled to his feet, holding his left arm tightly. J.J. landed lightly in the dirt, holding his hands out in a boxing stance, prepared to fight the centaur bare-handed if he had to.

"Really? You're monologuing?" J.J. asked drily. Justin snorted in anger as he regained his balance, lowering his head threateningly towards the young writer.

Tristan glanced down at the discarded blue sword in the dirt and picked it up, brandishing it with his good arm. With his weaker left arm, he returned J.J.'s sword, and J.J. nodded in thanks as he stood in a similar stance beside the knight, holding his sword in front of him in his familiar fencing stance.

"How's your arm?" J.J. asked softly, noting the way Tristan was favoring it.

"I would be lying if I said I was unharmed, but I can bear with the pain for now," Tristan replied through clenched teeth. "At least until our opponent has been vanquished."

"I am amused that you believe you can defeat me like this," Justin taunted him, starting to walk slowly around the two men. "An injured knight with no armor, and an untrained whelp with no experience."

"I dunno, I rather like our odds, considering all we have to do is go two-on-one with a centaur gladiator. Centurion. Centaurian!" J.J. exclaimed, grinning mischievously as the pun struck him.

"I do not understand," Tristan said curiously, tilting his head.

J.J. stared at Tristan blankly before shaking his head, figuring that the pun just didn't translate into Almencian. He settled back into his ready stance, preparing for Justin to attack them. Before either side could move, however, there was a rumbling in the ground that made all parties pause and look down at the floor apprehensively. Clawed, glowing hands began to emerge from the sand, and J.J. and Tristan watched in horror as a dozen Shards began climbing out of the ground, rising from the earth like zombies pulling themselves out of their graves.

"How… did they get down here?!" J.J. asked hoarsely, his head swiveling around quickly as he saw that they were surrounded.

"These arenas had sub-levels below the floors. They must have been resting within the tunnels below us," Tristan explained. The two men immediately pressed their backs together, each holding their swords out in response to the horde advancing on them.

"And fortune continues to smile upon me!" Justin crowed. "I merely need to wait for these beasts to tear you asunder!" He shifted his weight to his back hoof, crossing his arms and smirking triumphantly as the Shards advanced on his two opponents.

Tristan glanced over his shoulder at J.J. and smiled slightly. "It would seem that Justin is underestimating us, page."

"See, now that's just rude," J.J. replied with a grin. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Tristan said with a nod.

"Alright then. Alea iacta est," J.J. said, gripping his sword firmly as the first of the Shards entered the range of their blades.

As a Shard took a swipe at him, J.J. caught its wrist with the flat of his blade, before running his sword up the length of its body as he stepped in, extending his arm and stabbing it through the chest. The Shard fell to the ground in a cloud of dust, but J.J. was immediately beset by two more of the mute monsters. He managed to duck beneath the claws of the first Shard, but the second caught him in the chest. J.J. let out a soft grunt as the Shard's claws dug into the leather of his armor, but thankfully its fingers didn't pierce the tough material. J.J. delivered a vicious slice to its throat, before slashing its compatriot vertically, reducing both Shards to ash. With an instant's pause in the action, J.J. glanced over his shoulder to check on Tristan.

The knight was clearly favoring his left arm, keeping it behind him as he fenced with his right arm. He blocked a grasping blow from a Shard, catching it on his blade and leaning back as the stony creature pushed its weight on him. Tristan's stance remained firm, however, and after a moment he gathered his strength and pushed the Shard off of him, delivering a hard, diagonal slash to its body. The blue steel lived up to its reputation as the blade cut cleanly through its rocky skin, and the Shard fell to the ground, its ashes mixing with the dirt.

J.J. turned back around in time to sway to the side and avoid a brutal punch from another Shard. The blow narrowly missed Tristan's shoulder behind him, and J.J. winced. Mentally, he kicked himself, reminding himself that he had to keep Tristan's position in mind as well now. Before the Shard could attempt another attack, J.J. took advantage of its over-extension, slashing through its arm before stepping in and driving the point of his blade through its stomach, dispatching the Shard. The remaining two Shards hesitated, seeming to plan their next attack as J.J. gave his sword a little twirl, daring them to come at him. When they continued to falter, he stepped away from Tristan for a moment, darting forward and piercing the skull of one Shard as it continued to hesitate. He pulled his sword out of its face in time to roll out of the way of the last Shard's attack, and as he rose to his feet, he threw a fierce slash at its leg. The blow was shallow, but it was enough to drop the Shard to one knee. J.J. took advantage of this and clambered to his feet before his quarry did. He pressed the tip of his blade against the Shard's throat, and there was a brief moment where both combatants were still, staring into each other's eyes. Then J.J. pushed forward, the blade slicing through the Shard's neck completely, and it crumbled to dust.

J.J. turned to help Tristan finish off his last few opponents, but Tristan had already finished with his own group. J.J. could see he was in bad shape, however – his face was covered in sweat and dirt, and he was holding his left arm tightly, the sword hanging limply from the fingers of his right hand.

"Tag out, Tristan. Head upstairs and get some rest," J.J. said. "I'll take care of-"

Before he could finish that thought, a hammer blow struck J.J. in the back and sent him flying thirty feet forward before he collided with a wall. He was momentarily stunned as he crumpled to the ground, completely dazed from the blow. When he managed to collect his thoughts, he saw Justin's equine form towering over him, a sadistic smirk on his lips.

"Ah, Tristan's little protégé has decided he wishes to fight next?" Justin taunted him as J.J. shakily rose to his feet. "Shall we test how well he has been training you?"

"Better than you could, 'arena master,'" J.J. shot back, shaking his head to clear it.

"Hundreds of guardsmen have passed through my hands, boy," Justin snarled.

"Doesn't make you a good teacher," J.J. pointed out, trying to stall for time by keeping the Diemon talking while he recovered from the blow. "Doesn't mean that what you taught them did them any good. And really, how insecure do you have to be to try to assassinate your boss and take his position? If you were really that good, you'd have been given the job."

Justin let out a snort of disgust, pawing the ground with his front hoof. "Let us see how well Tristan has trained you, then. I hope for your sake that your insolence is backed by legitimate skill."

The centaur suddenly charged at him, but J.J. already had his hand on one of his D-formers. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his Driver shouted into the open air as a saxophone played, and as soon as Justin was within striking range, J.J. was engulfed in a sapphire twenty-sided die, which spun around him rapidly. Justin was thrown backwards by the impregnable force field, landing heavily on the sand as the spinning around J.J. stopped. Now clad in his navy blue jacket, he spun the die again with his right thumb.

 **"Critical!"** the Driver shouted, and the blue die surrounded him again. Instead of turning him invisible, however, the die instead coalesced on the blade of his right dagger, making it glow a threatening cobalt color. J.J. measured the distance between himself and Justin's prone form, and as the centaur was pulling himself to his feet, J.J. threw the dagger. The knife cut through the air, the blade scratching Justin's cheek but otherwise leaving him unharmed. J.J. held his hand out, and the dagger came spinning back into his hand.

Justin gingerly touched his cheek, looking at the blood, before shaking his head and sneering. "You have poor aim, boy," Justin commented.

"You think so?" J.J. replied calmly, putting his hand on his red D-former and giving it a spin instead.

 **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** the Driver shouted, war drums beating rapidly as J.J. was surrounded by a ruby jewel. As it dissipated, he was dressed in his red armor, hefting his warhammer over his shoulder.

"If that was your trump, then I am disappointed." Justin trotted over to a weapon rack and pulled a large lance from it. Though the point was rusty, J.J. didn't doubt that Justin had enough strength to ram it through his armor if he wasn't careful. Justin turned back to him and lowered the lance, couching it against his armpit. "Now let me show you how a true knight fights."

Justin lowered his head and charged at J.J. again, tearing across the arena far faster than any horse could. J.J. held his ground, and as Justin neared, he simply swerved out of the way. Justin surprised him, however, shifting his weight and skidding into J.J. The centaur's bulk slammed into him, sending J.J. stumbling backward, though thankfully his increased armor padded the blow, so it merely knocked the wind out of him instead of outright stunning him.

Justin, meanwhile, took advantage of this and resumed charging at J.J., the tip of the lance pointed at the center of his chest. J.J. slipped out of the way in time, but Justin trampled over him as he rolled out of the way. J.J. let out a yell of pain as he tumbled across the arena floor, his crimson armor getting caked in sand.

The centaur pulled up short and snorted triumphantly before turning around and once again charging at J.J., who had managed to clamber to his feet. He gripped his hammer tightly with both hands, and when Justin was close, he slammed the head of his weapon into the ground. The floor beneath them buckled, and Justin let out a cry of surprise as he stumbled and fell. The lance flew from his hand, narrowly missing J.J., who took advantage of Justin's prone form to rush forward and deliver a heavy blow to the centaur's head.

Unfortunately for him, the helmet Justin was wearing was harder than he'd thought. A deep ringing sound like a bell resounded through the arena, and the Diemon roared in pain, clutching his skull. J.J. backed away, his hands numb from the vibrations running up the handle of his hammer. He gingerly shook out one hand as he muttered under his breath, "Idiot. Should have gone for his spine."

Justin shook his head wildly, letting out another furious roar. J.J. watched cautiously as the monster tore himself out of the hole in the floor and ran at J.J., who brought his hammer up in a defensive stance. Justin's forelegs kicked up, knocking J.J. back like a ragdoll and sending him sprawling into the dirt again. Thankfully, he had managed to catch the blow on the haft of his hammer, so it only looked like he had taken a serious hit. Still, he was getting tired of getting tossed around.

J.J. wearily began to climb to his feet again as Justin stepped in front of him, glaring down at him, seething with rage. "I will tear you apart for that," Justin whispered.

A blur to J.J.'s left distracted both of them, however, and J.J. looked up in shock, then horror, as Kelsie placed herself between the two combatants, standing in a karate stance to protect J.J. from his opponent.

"Kelsie!" J.J. cried. "Get out of here!"

"No! I'm not going to let him keep beating you like this!" Kelsie declared, staring defiantly up at Justin.

"No, seriously, I'm fine," J.J. insisted, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Get out of the way before-!"

Justin growled and swept Kelsie aside with a single backhanded stroke of his arm. The girl cried out softly in surprise as the centaur's attack caught her in the ribs and knocked her to the ground. She whimpered in pain, clutching her side as Justin glared down at her.

"The battlefield is no place for children, girl," Justin whispered.

J.J. was immediately on the ground in front her, holding his hammer up to protect her as he looked back, his heart pounding as fear began to creep over him. If she'd gotten hurt _again_ because of him… "Are you alright?" he asked in a strained voice.

"I'm sorry," Kelsie whimpered, holding her chest, tears running down her face. "I just… I keep getting in the way. I just want to help you."

"I know," J.J. said softly as Justin began to walk around them slowly, looking for an opening. "But you're not helping me by putting yourself in danger."

"You're right. I'm just… I'm not strong enough to fight with you," Kelsie murmured. "At least… as I am now." Something about the way she said that set off warning bells in J.J.'s head.

"Kelsie…?" J.J. asked slowly, peeking at her over his shoulder.

"No more," Kelsie said quietly, her voice full of conviction. "I won't be a burden to you anymore. This time, I'm going to help you."

J.J.'s eyes widened as Kelsie stood up, gripping her D-former tightly in her right hand. "Kelsie, no!" he screamed.

"Henshin!" Kelsie called out, holding the jewel above her head. J.J.'s hand flew over his eyes as she was engulfed in a blinding silver light that illuminated the entire arena. J.J. felt as though he was standing next to a star. A little ways away, Justin likewise threw his arm over his face, grunting at the piercing light.

A moment later, J.J. lowered his hand, gazing at Kelsie apprehensively. "Kelsie…?" he asked, his voice shaking. As the light faded and he saw Kelsie's body, his heart dropped.

Kelsie's new form was – ironically, given the circumstances – equine, though her body was almost the opposite of Justin's. Her head now resembled a horse's, with a long silver mane flowing down her back. Her body was still humanoid, however, with lithe muscles showing clearly beneath her flesh. Her skin was coated in a very fine layer of shimmering silver hair, which seemed to glow slightly in the pulsing light of the crystals above them, and her body was covered from neck to thigh in a flowing silver cloth which preserved her modesty. Though she still had human hands, her legs ended in hooves, which she stood upon delicately, as if she was tiptoeing. A pair of massive silver wings almost larger than the rest of her body grew out of her back, and as the transformation ended, she opened her wings, testing them while she looked down at herself in awe. J.J. would have found her form beautiful if he wasn't so consumed with dread.

As Kelsie finished inspecting her body, she looked up at Justin with a slow, nickering growl. Before either J.J. or Justin could move, she launched herself forward, her wings extended to give her extra speed and power. Both were taken off-guard as she drove her fist into Justin's stomach, before following it up with a floating roundhouse kick that sent him reeling. While he was staggering away, she opened her wings and swept a massive cloud of dust into his face, momentarily blinding him. Justin roared and swiped at his face, trying to clear the sand from his eyes. Kelsie took advantage of the distraction to grab J.J.'s hand and lift him up, pulling him out of the fray.

"Kelsie!" J.J. snapped at her, struggling against her grasp. "That's enough! Power down!"

"No!" Kelsie snapped. Her voice had a slight echoing quality to it, adding to her ethereal appearance. "I've been waiting for the power to help you for so long, and I'm going to use it!"

"You don't understand!" J.J. insisted, but Kelsie dumped him unceremoniously on the ground before swooping back towards Justin, who had finally managed to clear his face. He looked up in time to see Kelsie slip inside his range and deliver an upwards kick to his chin. Justin's head snapped backward, but he recovered quickly, responding by kicking at Kelsie with his own hooves. Kelsie floated backwards before he could make contact, however, almost taunting him as she danced out of his range.

Justin glanced at his feet and noticed the discarded lance, which he picked up and snapped in half. He then threw the shortened spear at her like a javelin, the weapons singing as it flew towards her. Kelsie couldn't dodge in time, and she let out a cry of pain as the dull tip pierced one of her wings. She fell to the ground, inhaling sharply in response to the wound, as Justin charged towards her.

J.J. hadn't just been watching them fight, however, and with Justin distracted, he was able to close the distance in time despite Warrior Class's slow speed. Just as the knight was about to collide with Kelsie, J.J. drew his hammer back and slammed it into Justin's unprotected flank. As the warrior had been leaping at her, he took the full force of the blow and was sent careening away from Kelsie. He skidded across the floor and struggled to stand up, but then he dropped to his knees, panting and staring at his hands as he struggled for breath.

J.J. hurried over to Kelsie and helped her to her feet, growling to her, "How many times have I told you not to jump in while I'm trying to fight?! Worse, you went and used your D-former this time! What do I have to do to get it through your head that you need to stay out of this?!"

"What do _I_ have to do to get it through _your_ head that I'm not going to just let you get hurt again?!" Kelsie shot back as she climbed to her cloven feet. "You were getting clobbered!"

"No, I wasn't!" J.J. replied, sighing as he put his hand over his face. "I was faking!"

Kelsie stared at him blankly. "What?"

J.J. glanced over at Justin to make sure he wasn't going to attack them, but the centaur was laboring. He smiled briefly; it seemed his plan was finally working. He took advantage of the lull in combat to pull his diary from his belt, reverting to Adventurer Class, and he motioned for Kelsie to look over his shoulder as he flipped to one of the newest pages in the book.

"You remember this?" J.J. asked quickly.

"The manticore? Of course. Our first fight together," Kelsie replied, sounding nostalgic.

"Yeah. Now look at how it interacts with my stats. Specifically, the Critical it grants me," J.J. said, pointing to an addendum at the bottom of the page.

"…You poisoned him?" Kelsie asked, finally starting to catch on.

"Yeah. It's a new Critical for Thief Class. What's more, whereas the manticore's poison was unbearably painful, my own poison is much more subtle, to the point where the person who was poisoned doesn't even feel it until it starts taking a toll on their stamina. That's what I hit him with when the fight first started. Even a scratch is enough to inject them with venom, and from there, I just have to outlast them."

"…So that's why you were letting him whale on you the entire time?" Kelsie asked, her voice starting to crack as it started to dawn on her just how badly she had screwed up.

"Right. I got the inspiration from Tristan. If I tried to fight Justin fairly, he'd slaughter me. He's got much more experience than I do, after all. That's why I used my most defensive form and focused on minimizing damage while occasionally throwing in an attack when I saw an opening," J.J. explained, snapping his book shut. "It was all to draw him in and keep him wasting energy, so that when he started to tire out, I could finish him off."

Kelsie swallowed, looking away uncomfortably. "So… I became a Diemon… for nothing?" she squeaked.

J.J. was about to reply with a furious retort, but then he noticed that Kelsie was almost on the verge of tears. His anger cooled slightly, and he let out a sigh. "Well… you did help wear him out more, so thank you for that much," J.J. sighed. "But will you _please_ step back? I really don't want you using your D-former."

Kelsie nodded meekly and moved out of the way as J.J. walked towards where Justin was still kneeling. His breathing was heavy, and his body was coated in a fine layer of sweat. Slowly, he looked at J.J. with bleary eyes.

"You… dishonorable…!" Justin spat at him.

"The guy who was going to murder his boss over a ruined arena doesn't get to say a word about being dishonorable," J.J. said icily, putting his hand on his amber D-former.

"No… this arena… is mine," Justin gasped out. "I will not lose… to a pair of children…!"

"Yeah… you already did," J.J. said drily.

"No… I cannot lose here. This is my domain. I am… the master… of the arena! This… place… is… MINE!" Justin roared.

J.J. had been strolling calmly towards the downed Diemon, but he stopped short as Justin screamed at the ceiling. He held his arms out, bellowing with fury, and J.J. stared at him, bewildered. His confusion turned to alarm, however, as glowing yellow lines began snaking their way across Justin's body. They carved into his flesh like radioactive veins, tracing intricate patterns on his body. Worse, his muscles seemed to bulge, and the bruises J.J. and Kelsie had left on him faded. Justin's screaming slowly abated as the lines finished spreading, and when he turned to face J.J., his eyes had become a pair of glowing yellow orbs, the same color as the lines on his body.

J.J. took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest. "That's… new," he managed to quip, trying to dispel the fear gripping him.

Justin gazed at him silently, almost seeming to be staring through him. He suddenly rushed towards J.J., closing the distance with frightening speed. J.J. didn't have time to react as Justin's fist collided with his stomach. For the first time in the fight, J.J. truly felt the blow, as if his armor wasn't even there to protect him. He let out a choked gasp of pain as he was thrown across the arena and landed heavily on the ground. He lay there, unable to move for several moments, while Justin stared at his hand, silently flexing his fingers.

When the throbbing in his chest abated enough, J.J. sat up and pulled his diary out of his belt, flipping quickly to his stats page. To his alarm, he saw that he had less than a quarter of his health left. He couldn't take another hit like that.

Looking up, he saw Kelsie flying around the enraged centaur, occasionally darting in to throw a punch or kick before retreating. The centaur, however, simply took each blow silently, acting as if he felt nothing. When Kelsie flew too close, Justin's hand suddenly darted out and grabbed her leg. He yanked down, slamming the girl into the dirt, and Kelsie let out a choked cry of pain. Justin pinned her down with one forehoof and began stomping on her with the other. Her screams resounded through the amphitheater, bouncing off the walls.

J.J. slowly rose to his feet, wincing at the pain. He slipped his diary back into his belt, put one hand on his central D-former, and gave it a spin. A shout of **"Critical!"** filled the air as J.J. was surrounded by the familiar amber die, and he began sprinting at Justin from across the arena.

The centaur stopped attacking Kelsie for a moment to watch as J.J. leapt into the air and began rotating quickly, the die around him spinning faster. As he neared the Diemon, he swung his leg around in a flying roundhouse kick, letting out a short yell as he kicked Justin across the face. The force of the blow was enough to knock Justin off of Kelsie, but though he stumbled back a step or two, he remained on his feet. Kelsie scrambled out from under him, crawling away as J.J. landed softly on the earth, panting. The pane of energy on Justin's cheek started to spread, but a moment later simply dimmed out, like an old light fading.

J.J.'s jaw fell open under his helmet. His Critical Kick hadn't always been a sure-fire way to win a fight, but he'd never seen it fail so completely. At that moment, he realized this was a fight they couldn't win.

Looking up, he saw Tristan and Abby leaning over the edge of the king's booth, wearing looks of horror that mirrored his own. J.J. took a deep breath as he realized what he had to do.

"Tristan! Take Abby and get out of here!" he called out. "Get that Azuron to Susumu and have him fix your Driver!"

Tristan's eyes widened, and he shouted back, "But you-!"

"I'm going to hold him here for as long as I can," J.J. yelled. "That'll buy you, Abby, and Kelsie enough time to escape. And don't give me anything about not sacrificing myself. The reason I've done all of this is to give you the chance to don your armor again, since you're the one who has to beat the Black Seraph. We have that chance now, and I'm not going to let you waste it. Now get moving!"

Tristan hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded as he heard the resolve in J.J.'s voice. "Come along, Lady Brooks," Tristan said softly, tugging her arm.

Abby paused, but allowed herself to be pulled out of the amphitheater. J.J. sighed with relief as he watched them go. By now, Kelsie had climbed to her feet beside him.

"I want you to stay back for now," J.J. said softly. "If you get hurt any more, your mother will find a way to come after me even if I die here."

"I'm not-" Kelsie began, but J.J. shook his head.

"This is the one thing I've got to ask you to do," J.J. said softly. "If I die here, take the diary and give it to Tristan. It'll help him, and maybe he can find someone else to fight beside him."

Kelsie's equine eyes were rimmed with tears. "You're not going to die!"

"I can't promise that," J.J. said softly. As Justin began to advance on him, he pushed Kelsie towards the stands. "Get out of here!"

Kelsie was about to protest more, but before she could, Justin suddenly leaped at J.J., his front hooves slamming into his chest. J.J. tumbled backward, unable to avoid the attack, and as he flew through the air, his suit fragmented around him in a thousand tiny amber shards. He hit the ground unmorphed, letting out a cry of pain as he landed heavily in the dust.

"Yep… okay, I'm tired of getting tossed around," J.J. grunted to himself, pushing himself up onto his elbows as Justin stalked towards him. Kelsie let out an enraged scream and flew at the centaur, but the beast simply knocked her away again, almost as if he was swatting away a fly. She hit the ground and didn't move. J.J.'s eyes widened, but then his expression softened, and a small smile even spread across his face. At least she wouldn't have to see what came next.

Grunting, he slowly pushed himself to one knee, dusting himself off as he knelt before Justin's towering form. The centaur stopped a few feet from him, gazing down at J.J. silently with his glowing yellow eyes. J.J. stared back defiantly, gripping his sword tightly with his right hand. Both remained still for several long moments… until an unfamiliar, booming voice broke the silence.

"Oh? Someone was foolish enough to awaken the arena masters? I had been hoping I could utilize this amphitheater for a while longer," the voice said. Both J.J. and the centaur looked around, trying to discern the direction the voice had come from, but it seemed to echo all around them.

A figure flew over J.J.'s head and landed softly on the other side of the centaur. From his angle, J.J. couldn't make out much, but he could at least see that the figure stood over six feet tall and wielded a greatsword with a wavy edge, reminiscent of a flame. The figure looked up at Justin and let out a derisive snort.

"And this is what your ambition brought you, is it, Justin?" the figure commented. "Pathetic. You were never worthy of inheriting the arena. Though I suppose the fact that you achieved Apotheosis does make you of some use to me."

Justin seemed to tremble at these words, and he suddenly reared back, kicking at the figure with his front hooves. The figure, however, brought his sword up quickly, and with a single motion cleaved through Justin's foreleg.

Justin made no sound, but he collapsed, unable to support his weight with his maimed leg. The figure walked towards him languidly, holding his greatsword over his shoulder.

"I shall make this swift, however," he added. "As a knight, you at least deserve a quick death."

As the figure drew closer, J.J. saw that the figure had put his hand on a belt buckle shaped like a sword, with a vermillion D-former lodged in its pommel. The figure gave the D-former a quick spin, and the Driver shouted in a much deeper, harsher voice than J.J.'s own, **"Critical!"**

For a moment, the figure was wreathed in a fiery twenty-sided die, which them coalesced on its sword and set it ablaze. Even from where he was, J.J. could feel the heat of the blade. With a single, merciless stroke, the figure swung the sword around in a long arc, cleaving through Justin's neck. J.J. let out a cry of horror, holding his hand out, as the yellow cracks on the centaur's body turned orange, then red, and then spread across his body and consumed him. Justin's form dissolved into ash, leaving nothing behind aside from a stat page and his yellow D-former.

J.J. noticed that the D-former, unlike all the others he had seen, did not glow, but instead pulsed with a glowing light, and seemed to be covered in white runes. The figure walked over to the die and picked it up, examining it coldly for a moment before putting it into a pouch on their belt. They then picked up the stat page, and before J.J. could do anything, tore it in half.

"Hey!" J.J. shouted, still trying to process everything. Who was this person? How were they so strong? How had they gotten down here? Had they always been here? And most importantly… why did they have a Fantasy Driver?

The figure looked up at J.J.'s cry, and from this distance, J.J. could make out bloodred, scaled armor covering their torso and a helmet with bat-like wings for ears, though the helmet was still in shadow and he couldn't see it clearly. The figure appraised him silently for a few moments before saying bluntly, "I have no quarrel with you. Depart from this place, and do not return. There is naught here of use to you."

"Wait… who are you, though?" J.J. asked.

"That is none of your concern," the figure replied coldly. "I shall not warn you again. Retrieve your compatriot and depart, lest I have cause to turn my blade upon you."

A shiver ran down J.J.'s spine as he realized that wasn't an idle threat. Swallowing his questions, he nodded and hurried over to Kelsie, helping her up as she groaned. She spotted the figure watching them and looked at J.J. curiously.

"Who…?" she asked shakily.

"No idea," J.J. said quickly. "Come on, we've gotta get out of here. Can you stand?"

Kelsie gradually rose to her feet, helped up by J.J., and the pair limped out of the amphitheater towards the exit. They managed to make it up the stairs to the corridor, and as they exited into the sewers, J.J. was surprised to see Tristan and Abby waiting for them.

"I thought I told you to run," J.J. grumbled, though he was glad to see the knight and the girl regardless.

"Abby insisted on ensuring we rendezvoused with you, as even if you survived, you would be unable to return to the surface," Tristan explained. Abby nodded once to confirm this. "I was content to accept your sacrifice, but I am glad we remained behind. And it would seem you were victorious."

"Not…exactly," J.J. admitted, quickly relaying what had happened. When he finished, Tristan remained silent. "Do you… know of any other Drivers?" J.J. asked slowly.

"…No," Tristan said after several long moments. "No Driver that I know of ever operated in that fashion."

"Hm. We'll just keep an eye on it," J.J. said. "That said… there's one more thing I have to do."

He turned to Kelsie, who blearily looked up at him. J.J. gripped his sword so tightly that his hand was shaking. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he got in range, while Kelsie closed her eyes. J.J. slowly raised his sword… and then suddenly slashed her across her forearm, barely cutting the skin.

Kelsie let out a cry of pain, then looked down at the wound in surprise. "Ow!" she said indignantly.

"You… are choosing not to seal her?" Tristan asked skeptically.

J.J. shook his head as he opened his diary to a blank page and quickly scribbled down the word "Pegasus" in it. The quill automatically took over writing, and he gave Kelsie to Abby and pulled Tristan aside, speaking in a low voice.

"Do we have enough Azuron to make a new Driver?" he murmured.

"No. But it is more than sufficient to repair mine," Tristan whispered back. "This is… the path you choose to follow, then?"

"If there's a chance to save her without doing more damage to the poor girl than I've already done to her, I'm going to take it," J.J. said resolutely.

Tristan stared at him silently, then shook his head. "You are the only one who can make this decision, page. I shall respect it, but I question its wisdom."

"Yeah. And I hope that, for once, I'm right," J.J. agreed.

J.J. turned back towards Kelsie, holding his diary up. "Kelsie, we're going to try and do something to help seal your Diemon side away without crippling you again. We came down here to try and fix Tristan's Driver, and he's agreed to give it to you once it's repaired."

Kelsie's eyes widened with delight as she asked excitedly, "So… I get to be a Kamen Rider?!"

"No," J.J. said firmly, narrowing his eyes. Kelsie instantly deflated, and he saw her lip curl in a pout. "The Driver might help seal your Diemon form, but I do _not_ want you fighting. And in the meantime, _do not use your Diemon power_. If you do," he added, shaking his diary firmly, "I'll know. Understand?"

For a few moments, it appeared Kelsie might refuse, but then she begrudgingly muttered, "…Yeah." Silver cracks formed along her skin, and a few moments later her Diemon form disappeared, leaving the fourteen-year-old girl leaning on Abby. She was still clearly irritated by J.J.'s declaration, but there was little she could say in protest.

J.J. nodded, letting out a long breath as Abby turned around and resumed leading them out of the sewers. He was battered and exhausted, but the gears in his head wouldn't stop spinning. How many other former Almencians were out there, waiting to be revived? How many of them were allies? How many were being corrupted by D-formers? Who was the person that had slain Justin so effortlessly? Was Justin dead? Was that simply because of the raw power of the attack, or was there another reason? That was Apotheosis? Was J.J. helpless against those that assumed that form? And most importantly, was this war about to escalate? And if so… did he stand a chance?


	18. Session 18

**Session 18**

"There's a trio of goblins blocking the way out of the cave, and while you're standing there pondering your predicament, two more arrive to cut off your retreat," J.J. said, placing three goblin figurines on the map in front of the players, and two more behind them. The group let out a groan of annoyance, and he smirked at them maliciously.

"How many more of these are in this village?" Ryan sighed, burying his head in his arms.

"You were the one who said you didn't want to negotiate," J.J. pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"They're goblins! They're not supposed to be this strong!" Gwen protested.

"And you were the one who was saying you wanted a challenge for a change," J.J. added, sitting back and folding his arms, an unrepentant grin crossing his lips.

"Who hurt you, J.J.? Who made you so sadistic?" Gary asked.

"I have six good answers. Three of them are sitting right in front of me," J.J. replied drily. "Now what're you going to do?"

"Is it too late to negotiate?" Abby asked with a sigh.

"Ask Ryan," J.J. said simply, smirking at the teenager, who glared back at him.

"In that case, I'm going to cast a fireball at the goblins," Gwen announced.

"Roll it. And keep in mind that you have a negative modifier for the shaman trying to block magic," J.J. said.

Gwen rolled the die across the table, and a delighted cheer went up from his players as it landed on a natural twenty. J.J. pretended to scowl in irritation at the roll.

"And once again fate decrees that I'm not allowed to torture you, no matter how stupid your decisions are," he sighed, rolling damage dice for them. "The trio of goblins are roasted alive, their charred corpses your only barrier to the exit. You're free to retreat if you want."

"You sure?" Gary asked, warily eyeing the dungeon master. "You sure there isn't like a pack of wargs waiting outside to tear us apart?"

"There wasn't before," J.J. said, giving Gary a shark-toothed grin.

"No!" the others screamed at him, practically diving at him over the table. J.J. laughed, dancing out of their reach as he held his hands up.

"I'm kidding! You all emerge from the tunnel unmolested. The goblins elect not to follow you and remain at the entrance, chittering at you in their barbaric tongue and waving their fists and spears at you. You, Ryan, hold in your hand the secret missive that was given to the goblin chieftain that was signed by the kidnappers of the princess. It's signed by Lord Rivan, and it indicates that the princess was to be moved to the city of Eren."

"Knowledge check?" Gwen asked.

"Don't bother. You know it's the largest city of the Lcrance Federation, and it's clearly marked on most maps." J.J. explained.

"Then I guess that's our next stop," Ryan said. "Do we want to continue?"

"We've been at it for four hours. I could use a break," Gwen said, stretching.

"Yeah, and the slow part of the day is coming to an end," Gary added, glancing up at the seats that were starting to fill up. "People are going to start coming in."

The door opened, and J.J. glanced over at it to see Agni, dressed in a crisp suit. He took a moment to scan the tavern before spotting J.J., and he smiled as he began walking over. "For instance," J.J. said, grinning as the man walked over to him. "What's up, Agni? Haven't seen you lately."

Agni took a seat at the table as the others began packing up their dice and character sheets. He glanced around at the flurry of activity before fixing his gaze on J.J. "Sorry, didn't mean to end the game."

"Nah, I actually welcome it. If they had their way, they'd keep me here all night," J.J. chuckled.

"…It's mid-morning," Agni said blankly.

"Exactly," J.J. replied.

"It's not a good game if it doesn't last at least ten hours!" Ryan chimed in.

Agni stared at the boy before shaking his head. "Anyways, I wanted to talk to you about the last few chapters that you sent in."

J.J.'s grin faded, and he felt his stomach tie itself up in knots. "Was… something wrong with it?" he asked warily.

"On the contrary!" Agni grinned, setting an envelope in front of him. "I was speaking with Theresa… ah, Ms. Chambers," he corrected himself quickly, "and she said that it was some of your best work to date. She wanted to pass this along as a little incentive to get you to write it a bit faster, since she thinks you're finally onto something with this new setting."

J.J. blinked as he opened the envelope and saw a check inside. When he saw the amount written on it, he let out a low whistle. "That's… a good incentive," J.J. said slowly. "And these aren't even royalties."

"It's happens sometimes with writers that the publisher thinks are promising," Agni said. "It's not a bribe or anything shady, so don't worry. It's more like funding to keep you writing and producing faster so they can get it out the door quicker."

"Am I being rushed?" J.J. asked, pushing the check back into the envelope.

"Not exactly, but they do want you to keep sending in chapters," Agni said with a nod. "Which, given your circumstances, I know isn't easy."

"What, you mean riding all over the city and fighting monsters? Naw, I'm just lazy," J.J. said sarcastically, chuckling. "Though… thankfully, it's been quiet for the last week or so."

"Why's there been a lull?" Ryan asked in a quieter voice, having been listening in while Gary walked back to the bar, ignoring them.

"I don't know," J.J. said thoughtfully. "But… if I had to guess, based on his conversation with Kelsie? The Black Seraph chooses the people who he wants to become Diemons carefully; otherwise, he'd have flooded the entire city with D-formers by now. If accepting a D-former is really completely voluntary, that means he probably has to scout them out and learn their circumstances, wait until they're at a point where they'd be willing to accept a D-former, and then wait for them to become a Diemon. It's probably a rather drawn-out process, which is the only reason why I've been able to keep up with the Diemons he's created up to this point."

"True. He did come to me when I was at my lowest, and seemed to know exactly what I needed to hear," Ryan commented. Agni nodded grimly in agreement.

"Either way, I'm grateful for the breaks when I get them," J.J. said, stuffing the check in his jacket. "And you can tell Ms. Chambers that I'll have her next chapter soon."

"I'll pass that on," Agni said with a nod, though he frowned when he saw J.J. putting his laptop in his backpack. "But please, don't jump on your computer on my account," he added, raising an eyebrow. "That _was_ incentive to get you working, you know."

"Yeah, but I do need breaks every now and again," J.J. pointed out. "And I promised Kelsie that I'd watch her track meet."

"You've been spending a lot of time with her lately," Ryan noted.

J.J. looked down at the floor. "I'm worried she's going to do something stupid now that she's become a Diemon," he said quietly. "I've seen it too many times not to expect it now."

The others were quiet for a few long moments before Gwen bounced up to them, grinning. "You ready to get going?"

Agni stared at her. "She's coming with you? I thought you didn't like Kelsie."

"I didn't have anything else going on today," Gwen shrugged. "And J.J. has to buy me lunch afterwards. Besides, I have to make sure he's not cheating on me with his other girlfriend."

J.J. stared at her. "That's… just creepy."

"Maybe spend more time with me than you do with her and I won't get suspicious," Gwen retorted playfully.

J.J. rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she smiled up at him cheekily. "I'll get her another chapter by the end of the week, barring something catastrophic happening," he assured Agni.

"Don't overwork yourself," Agni replied, tossing them a wave as they headed out the door for J.J.'s motorcycle.

* * *

"Right… this is why I hated high school events," J.J. commented, idly stirring his soda with its straw. He and Gwen were sitting near the top row of the bleachers overlooking the track of the local high school, surrounded by a crowd of a couple hundred people.

"The noise, the people, the heat, or the boredom?" Gwen asked, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"Yes," J.J. answered flatly, watching the latest shotput throw land ten yards short of the previous mark. The air filled with groans from one half of the stands and cheers from the other, though neither J.J. nor Gwen showed any reaction, as they had no reason to be invested in this particular event.

"Hey, you're the one who insisted we come support your daughter," Gwen pointed out as she shook a handful of peanuts into her hand and popped them into her mouth.

"Wait, first she's my girlfriend, and now she's my daughter?" J.J. quipped at her, a grin spreading across his face.

"Can't she be both?" Gwen shot back. J.J. shuddered dramatically.

"You're sick," he said. The white-haired girl beamed at him, snuggling closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm amazed I haven't scared you off yet," she remarked. "Most of my other relationships ended way before I got to this point."

"Keep in mind that we were friends long before you shanghaied me into dating you," J.J. said, putting his hand lightly on top of hers. "If you couldn't scare me off then, you're not going to now."

"That's so sweet," Gwen said with a scowl. J.J. laughed, glancing over at the clock.

"Thankfully this should be over soon. I think the track events are up next," J.J. said. "We'll watch her and then we can go."

"I do think it's sweet of you to worry about her this much," Gwen added in a more serious tone.

"I… feel responsible for her at this point," J.J. admitted. "After all, I'm the one who got her wrapped up in this whole mess, even if it was unintentional. I want it to end peacefully for her, if I can, and let her get back to having a normal life."

"Even if that's not what she wants?" Gwen asked. "She seems rather keen on being your sidekick."

"She's fourteen. She doesn't know what she wants, or what she'd be getting into if I let her fight alongside me," J.J. said firmly.

"You know, the more you refuse to let her fight, the more she's going to want to," Gwen warned him.

"Yeah, I know how teenagers work," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I would have done the same thing at her age, just to spite whoever was telling me not to. But I don't know what else to do. It's not like I can tell her it's okay for her to join me. Right now, I'm praying that Tristan and Susumu finish fixing the Driver so I can give it to her and stop worrying about her becoming a Diemon."

"You hope," Gwen pointed out.

"I hope," he agreed.

The pair fell silent as the announcer tapped the microphone twice, and the last of the shotputters left the field. The woman's voice boomed across the field as a new group walked onto the track, greeted by cheers and applause.

"And for our next event, the girl's 400-meter dash," the woman announced. J.J. looked down to see Kelsie in the third lane. She looked towards the stands, scanning them, and she first spotted her parents and gave them a wave before also noticing J.J. and Gwen further down. She beamed and waved at him enthusiastically. J.J. smiled slightly and waved back, though his was somewhat more subdued.

"Runners, on your marks!" the announcer instructed them, and Kelsie turned away, taking her position at the starting line.

"I spoke to her coach while things were getting set up. She said Kelsie's been improving significantly over the last few months," J.J. commented to Gwen as he sat back on the bleachers, sighing faintly to himself. "Or… at least, she had been before she got injured."

"Stop dwelling on that and watch the race," Gwen said sternly, poking him in the ribs.

"Right. Sorry," J.J. nodded, leaning forward a bit as the crowd fell silent, waiting for the race to begin. There was a long pause, and then the referee raised the starting pistol into the air and pulled the trigger.

Instantly, the runners took off, a black-haired girl shooting to the front of the pack. Kelsie settled into the middle of the group, keeping her stride and not wasting energy. As he watched her, though, J.J. frowned. Gwen noticed his expression.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

"Does it look like she's… holding back a bit to you?" J.J. murmured. From where he was sitting, she almost seemed to be jogging, yet she was keeping pace with the rest of the group.

Gwen peered a bit closer, and a worried expression settled over her features. "You don't think she's…?"

J.J.'s shook his head as he watched her intently. As she passed near the bleachers, she caught his eye, and J.J. could swear he saw a smirk spread across her face. She began to pick up the pace, pumping her legs harder as they continued the lap, and she began to break away from the pack. Her speed increased as the race went on, and she pulled further ahead as they rounded the curve, leaving her competitors far behind.

J.J.'s frown deepened as the race began to reach its conclusion, and when Kelsie crossed the finish line, she had an enormous lead over her competitors. She raised her hands in the air, and the crowd cheered wildly.

J.J. slowly rose from his seat, snarling, but Gwen grabbed his arm, shaking her head firmly. "Now's not the time," she murmured.

He sighed and settled back down as the announcer called out, "And with a stunning time of 51.8 seconds, Miss Kelsie Shaw has shattered the previous school record!"

J.J. narrowed his eyes, pulling out his phone and doing a quick lookup. He raised an eyebrow and showed the time to Gwen, when compared to Olympic records.

"Forget school records, she's in the realm of world records," Gwen said softly.

"Yeah. No way she used to be that good," J.J. growled. "We're going to have a chat with her once the crowd thins a bit."

Unfortunately, the celebration went on for a quite a while longer. The few reporters at the event insisted on having a word with her, especially after one mentioned her miraculous recovery when she'd been hospitalized only weeks earlier. Then came the awards ceremony, where she was presented with her medal to the raucous cheers of the crowd. The entire time, J.J. sat simmering, silently staring at her.

When the crowd finally dispersed a bit, Kelsie climbed up into the stands, going to greet her parents first before bouncing over to J.J. and Gwen. She held up her medal, grinning brightly as she said, "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Congratulations," J.J. said coldly. "I really loved watching you cheat."

Kelsie's smile faltered as she finally caught sight of J.J.'s glowering, and she let the medal lie flat on her chest. "What?" she asked uneasily, taking a step back as she looked away.

"You know what!" J.J. snarled. "What, you didn't think we'd notice you using your D-former's to give yourself a boost?!"

"I… I've always been a good runner," Kelsie faltered.

"Yeah, which is why you've always had Olympic committee members coming to chat with you about training for the next summer games," J.J. snapped sarcastically. "I can believe that you're a good runner, but can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you were casually shattering records before your accident?"

Kelsie's uncomfortable expression began to turn defensive. "What, so I'm not supposed to compete? I should just sit in my room until you _allow_ me out on parole?!"

"That's not the point! You know as well as I do that you just cheated!" J.J. snapped. "If there's one thing that's sure to set me off, it's taking credit for a victory you didn't earn, Kelsie."

"Yeah?! And what would you rather I do?" she shot back. "If my D-former lets me walk, then I can't _not_ use it when I'm running! What if I told you that you're not allowed to write anymore because even picking up a pen might turn you into a monster?!"

"If you told me that, I at least would be patient enough to wait until someone had a way to fix it!" J.J. replied. "Especially since we _do_ already have a way! Or did you forget that Susumu is working on fixing Tristan's Driver for you? Once we do that-!"

"Then you'll lock it on my waist like a chastity belt, right?!" Kelsie yelled at him. They were starting to attract a few stares, but as they were inches from each other at this point, neither noticed. "Or are you going to confiscate my D-former and paralyze me again instead?!"

J.J. stepped back as if he'd been slapped, and Gwen interposed herself between the two. "Alright, enough! Both of you!" she said firmly.

"No, I'm sick of this!" Kelsie cried, stepping around Gwen as she stepped up to J.J., glaring up at him. "All you've done since we met is treat me like I'm in the way, when all I've wanted to do is help you!"

"Yeah, and I get that you've wanted to help," J.J. said, trying to steady his voice to keep the argument from escalating further. "But you haven't been listening to me when I've told you that jumping in to fight is only making things worse."

"I've saved you several times already!" Kelsie exclaimed, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "And you've never thanked me for it! Not once!"

"Because I don't want to encourage you!" J.J. said. "If I thanked you, I get the feeling you'd take that as a sign that I'm okay with you fighting alongside me, and from then on you'd keep throwing yourself at whatever Shards or Diemons popped up!"

"And what's wrong with that?" Kelsie asked.

"Guys?" Gwen interjected, but both ignored her.

"Look at what's happened already!" J.J. replied, exasperated. "You've already become a Diemon! I don't want this getting any worse! You were there for my fight with Justin, when he reached Apotheosis! You remember how powerful he was! And he didn't even seem human anymore! What if that happens to you?"

"It won't," Kelsie said simply.

"You said the same thing about becoming a Diemon," J.J. sighed, running his hand down his face. "You can't promise me that, especially when we don't even know what triggers Apotheosis."

Kelsie hesitated, looking down at the ground while she tried to formulate a counter-argument. J.J. stood over her, his arms folded, wondering how he could make his point sink in.

"Guys!" Gwen said loudly, and J.J. and Kelsie turned towards her. Across the field, J.J. could make out shapes lumbering towards the school. He couldn't see their glowing blue lines clearly in the bright sunlight, but J.J. was familiar enough with the dark, rocky forms of the Shards to recognize them immediately, even from this distance.

Other members of the crowd began pointing them out, and people began yelling and running away from them. Thankfully, they were still several hundred yards away, but no one was taking any chances.

"That's weird," Kelsie said softly. "They don't usually come out in the middle of the day like this."

"Stragglers do from time to time," J.J. corrected her, glowering down at her. "Besides, they're drawn to people who use D-formers."

Kelsie's eyes widened, and then she narrowed them furiously. "Are you accusing me of causing this?" she snapped.

"No, of course not," J.J. responded in a bitingly sarcastic tone. "I'm going to go yell at the bald guy down there in the third row once I'm done fighting off the Shards. He's clearly been turning into a dragon-themed Diemon in his spare time, and really needs to be more responsible."

"J.J.! Not the time!" Gwen admonished him, nodding towards the Shards that were lumbering closer. "Deal with them now! Chastise Kelsie later!"

"Right, right," J.J. said. He noticed Kelsie gazing across the field at the Shards, an eager expression on her face. He sighed, realizing that she was going to try to step in, no matter how hard he tried to keep her from doing so. Reaching out, he put his hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. "Right now, though, I need your help. Can you get everyone out of here so that I don't have to worry about bystanders getting hurt?"

Kelsie's eyes widened, and she beamed up at him happily. "Leave it to me!" she said enthusiastically.

As she scampered off, Gwen smiled at him, nodding in approval. "Smart," she commented.

"I figured I should give her something to do to make her feel like she's contributing, and this'll keep her out of the fight," J.J. murmured. "Can you help her as well?"

"Of course. Be careful," Gwen added, leaning in and squeezing his hand.

"I always am," he replied with a wink, and as she ran off, J.J. slipped into the crowd, working his way behind the school. When he didn't see anyone around, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his diary.

With a few flicks of his fingers, J.J. flipped the book to his stats page and held it up to his left cheek. In a clear voice, he yelled over the screaming of the crowd, "Henshin!" His belt appeared around his waist, and he slotted his book into the belt buckle and gave the amber die on the front cover a spin.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** his book shouted, and as trumpets blared, J.J. was encircled by a translucent amber twenty-sided die, which began spinning around him rapidly while his body was encased in brown leather armor. As the spinning stopped, J.J. held out his hand, and his quill flew into his palm, which he clicked into its sword form before jogging out from behind the school building.

In the time it had taken him to transform, the Shards had advanced a few hundred yards and were nearly in range of the stragglers of the crowd. J.J. broke into a sprint before leaping into the air. He sailed several feet, doing a somersault in midair to increase his distance, before landing lightly on the grass in front of the first Shard. Before it had time to react, he stepped in and thrusted his sword through its chest. The Shard stared dumbly at the wound as J.J. twisted the blade before withdrawing it, and the Shard crumbled to dust in front of him. The other Shards hesitated upon seeing this, and a few members of the crowd paused to watch him.

"Page!" someone cried, and a few people stopped to begin cheering, much to his chagrin. He glanced over his shoulder, glaring at them from behind his mask.

"If you have time to celebrate, you have time to run!" he shouted. "Get going!"

J.J. turned back around in time to see a Shard swiping its long claws at him. J.J. caught the blow on the flat of his blade before twisting it and slashing it across the Shard's fingers, severing them. The Shard stared dumbly at the stumps on its hand before J.J. pierced its stomach with a hard thrust, and the monster fell to the ground in a heap of ash.

As two more Shards charged at him, J.J. backed away towards the bleachers. He began climbing them backwards, tentatively sliding his feet behind him as he slowly ascended the stairs while brandishing his sword to keep the Shards at bay. The monsters, naturally, weren't intimidated by his defensive posture, but they nevertheless were slowed by the stairs, allowing him to start positioning himself so that he only had to deal with them one at a time.

One of the Shards finally broke formation as J.J. began backing along one of the benches, advancing on him and outpacing its partner. J.J. smiled, as he now had it trapped on a one-dimensional plane, and from here it was a simple fencing match. He held his ground as the Shard began swiping at him, simply leaning away from its first two swipes before parrying the third to the side. He sent a thrust at the Shard, but the monster showed surprising foresight and stepped back, causing his attack to miss. J.J. reset his position, holding his sword out in front of him while keeping his left hand behind his back, both he and the Shard waiting for the other to make the first move. J.J. finally struck first, shifting forward with a quick slash that the Shard caught on its claws. J.J., however, balled his fist, and brought his left hand around in a left hook, a move he didn't usually try. His hand collided with the Shard's jaw, and while it did little damage, the Shard was clearly stunned by the attack, as it released his sword. J.J. took advantage of this, stabbing forward once more, and this time hitting home, his blade piercing the Shard's chest cleanly.

As the Shard collapsed in a heap of ash, the final Shard lunged at him. J.J. jumped back, but stumbled over top of the bleachers and landed hard on the ground below. The Shard pounced on him, claws extended. J.J. caught its wrists, grunting as he struggled with it for a moment before managing to get his knee into the monster's groin. Naturally, the beast didn't react to what would otherwise be a debilitating attack, but J.J. used the momentum to flip the Shard over his body and fling it off of him. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword as the Shard clambered upright as well, both combatants staring at each other for a moment. J.J. tentatively slashed at the monster, but the Shard knocked the attack aside before jumping at J.J. Thankfully, his reflexes had improved, and just before it hit him, J.J. stepped aside and slashed. His blow caught the Shard in the chest, and it crumbled to dust even as it sailed through the air, landing in a heap of black sand at the foot of the bleachers.

J.J. decided to take a moment to catch his breath, but that was when he heard shrill giggling above him. Gritting his teeth, he looked up to see the Fool sitting on top of the scoreboard, kicking its feet and holding a box of popcorn.

"Oooh, its moves have become even flashier!" the Fool crowed. "Is it appealing to the crowd? Sadly, the audience seems to have already left!"

"Well, you seem to like my performances, so I'm glad someone is impressed at least," J.J. retorted sarcastically, extending his arms out while giving a mocking bow. His eyes then fell on the box of popcorn in the clown's hand, and he frowned from behind his helmet. "Wait… how are you even eating that?" he asked. "You're wearing a mask."

"Who said we were eating it?" the Fool replied, tossing the box over its shoulder before leaping off of the scoreboard. It did an elegant twirl in midair before landing lightly on the top row of the bleachers. The Fool folded its hands behind its back and began pacing back and forth on the topmost bleacher, strolling along it like a sidewalk while gazing at J.J.

"Are you going to tell me what you want, then?" J.J. challenged the jester, folding his arms.

"Merely watching the play, as ever," the jester replied airily. "We have been rather enjoying this latest tragedy in the making. Sadly, it seems to be entering its final act. Will we finally see a performance come to a satisfying conclusion?"

"What're you talking about?" J.J. growled.

"Oh, come now, the tragedy has been most exquisite up to this point!" the Fool chortled. "The desperation! The pain it feels as it watches, helpless, paralyzed by its own indecision! There is no way this story ends happily!"

"…Kelsie," J.J. said finally, lowering his head. "I don't know, though. I think we have a pretty good plan that should ruin your ending."

"Does it?" the Fool replied mockingly. "It assumes all the actors will behave according to script. Has that one followed your directions even once?"

J.J.'s eyes widened as he heard screams coming from the north. The Fool tilted its head upward, letting out a soft "ah" sound.

"We wonder if that is the announcement of the climax?" the Fool giggled. "Shall we go watch, boy?"

Before J.J. could respond, the Fool jumped off the bleachers and began leaping from treetop to treetop effortlessly, laughing all the way. J.J. cursed under his breath and followed at a run, sprinting towards the screams. When he finally crested a small hill and looked down, his heart caught in his throat.

People were scrambling to get to their cars, but a squad of Shards was lumbering around the area. For the most part, they ignored the civilians, but if they got in arm's reach, the Shards tossed people aside. Unfortunately, with the considerable strength of the crystalline monsters, this meant people ended up being thrown like ragdolls and colliding with cars and other objects, sometimes hard enough that J.J. could hear the sickening crunches from where he was. One figure, however, was disrupting the attack.

Kelsie had transformed into her Diemon form, and while people ran around her, she worked to prevent the Shards from attacking anyone. As one drew close to a young boy, she flew between him and the Shard, kicking it firmly in the chest and sending it sprawling. To J.J.'s surprise, the beast then began dissolving into ash, which he'd thought only happened when he or Tristan pierced it with an Almencian sword. How strong had Kelsie become?

That thought was interrupted by the Fool's giggling. J.J. glanced to his left to see the Fool standing ten feet away from him, its arms crossed. He gripped his sword, but the jester held up a warning finger, and J.J. relaxed, remembering what had happened the last few times he had attacked the harlequin. The Fool nodded as J.J. backed down, before turning his gaze at the fight below them.

"She dances so gracefully," the Fool said airily with a sigh. "Truly, she is one of our favorite actors on this stage."

"Even though she's an obstacle to your master's plans?" J.J. pointed out. He wanted to jump in to help her, but he also wasn't sure what the Fool was going to do if he let the clown out of his sight.

"You act as if our master doesn't wish for this," the Fool chuckled. "She has been granted the chance to fill the role of a hero, and she is playing that part admirably. Look how the audience loves her!"

J.J. looked back down at the battle. At first he thought the Fool meant the crowd, but they were staying as far away from her as possible. To them, she was just another Diemon, another monster. J.J. wondered what the Fool meant, then, until he saw that the Shards were clawing through the crowd to get to her. His eyes widened behind his helmet, and the Fool let out a soft laugh, as if it could see J.J.'s reaction behind the mask.

"And now it goes to disrupt her performance," the Fool sighed, flicking his fingers dramatically. "We suppose it is dragging on too long."

J.J. hesitated a moment longer, narrowing his eyes at the Fool. "One question. You said that your master's goals are being fulfilled, even with Kelsie working against you. Tell me… what're _your_ goals, Fool?"

The Fool gazed at J.J. levelly for a few long moments, remaining uncharacteristically silent, before letting out a soft titter. "All the actors have their parts, boy," the Fool said softly. "And some of us have roles we did not expect. But we must play our parts nevertheless, or the play shall never come to a satisfying conclusion."

The Fool's voice was almost melancholy, but before J.J. could press for details, the clown suddenly leaped into the air again, tossing a wave as they did. Shaking his head, J.J. gripped his sword and did the same, jumping into the air and sailing in the opposite direction towards the swarm of Shards.

He landed lightly behind Kelsie, whose back was turned to a Shard that was swinging a clawed hand towards her. J.J. intercepted the blow, turning it aside with the flat of his blade, before stepping in and piercing the Shard's throat. Hearing the sound behind her, Kelsie turned around, swinging wildly at J.J. with her fist. Thankfully, J.J.'s reflexes were quick enough to block the blow with his blade. Kelsie's eyes met his, and for a moment he was concerned that she didn't recognize him. However, she then released him and nodded, grinning. "You're late," she said.

"And you're breaking the rules," J.J. replied sourly, putting his hand on his red D-former. "But we'll deal with that in a minute. For now… keep doing what you're doing," he sighed.

Kelsie let out a joyful laugh, and she redoubled her efforts on the Shards that were swarming towards her. As one of the Shards got in range, it prostrated itself before her, only for her to kick it under the chin. J.J. winced at the brutality, but he didn't have time to feel sorry for the beast, especially when two more were rushing at him.

Stepping forward, J.J. flicked the red D-former, sending it spinning in the spine of his book. **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** the D-former shouted, and the Shards were thrown backwards as he was engulfed in a ruby die. As it spun around him, war drums played, and his armor thickened. When the spinning stopped, he stood clad in his red Viking-esque armor, hefting his hammer over his shoulder as he gazed at the prone Shards.

"Let's make this quick," he murmured, giving the D-former another spin. **"Critical!"** it shouted regally, and he was once more enveloped in a ruby die formation which quickly coalesced on the spike of his hammer, which began glowing bright red. J.J. hefted the shaft over his shoulder and swung it downwards in vicious slashing motions, cleaving through the two Shards before following the movement up with a third horizontal slash through the body of another Shard that had been leaping towards him. The three monsters collapsed almost simultaneously, and J.J. quickly swung around to help Kelsie with her last couple opponents.

The Shards seemed to have realized that she was fighting them, and they apparently had enough self-preservation to fight back. One Shard was clawing at her wing, but Kelsie buffeted it backwards with a firm gust of wind before taking to the air, hovering ten feet above the ground. The Shards clawed at her, but with one distracted, J.J. slammed his hammer into the side of its head, knocking it to the ground. He then brought the hammer over his head and slammed it into the Shard's chest, reducing it to ashes. It was almost certainly overkill, J.J. mused, but he wanted to finish this fight quickly.

The last two Shards continued to claw at Kelsie's airborne form, but she remained just out of reach, gathering her energy before letting out a short yell. She dove at the two Shards, catching their necks with the insides of her arms in a literal flying lariat. Kelsie carried the two of them fifty feet, picking up speed before whipping her arms forward and releasing them. The Shards were sent careening into one of the walls of the school, and before they had time to recover, she flipped in midair so that she was flying at them hooves-first. She kicked both Shards simultaneously in the chest with her cloven feet, and the two beasts seemed to seize up for a moment before dissolving in piles of dust.

Kelsie kicked off the wall and landed gracefully on her feet, dusting her hands off triumphantly as she gazed around the chaotic remnants of the battlefield. Only a few people still lingered, and they were desperately trying to get in their cars to flee the scene, especially with a Diemon still there. Quite a change, J.J. thought wryly, as when he'd been by himself, they'd wanted to watch him fight the Shards like it was a spectator sport. Throw a Diemon in and people finally got the message that they shouldn't be in the area.

Kelsie trotted over to him, her equine form vanishing and leaving her panting and grinning up at him. Her tracksuit was stained with sweat and her face was flushed, with her hair falling into her eyes, but she nevertheless looked as pleased as if she'd just won the lottery.

"Thanks!" she said brightly. "I wasn't sure how to deal with those last few Shards!"

"Kelsie…!" J.J. growled, de-morphing. He rubbed his eyes as Kelsie frowned up at him, tilting her head.

"What? People were being attacked, and I was in the area," she explained. "I couldn't just let them get hurt, could I?"

J.J. opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a long, slow breath, wrestling with how he felt about her transforming again. Finally, however, he let out a defeated sigh, sagging as he looked down at her.

"Well… everyone is safe, and there are a few less Shards in the world," he said reluctantly. "I guess that's good, at least."

Kelsie's smile broadened, but J.J. was unable to look her in the eye. "So I did good?" she asked.

"…This time, yeah," J.J. finally said. "We shouldn't linger here, though. Let's go see if your parents are still around so they can take you home."

"Can't you just drive me back?" Kelsie asked.

"Yeah, sure, that's just what I need," J.J. snorted. "Your mother screaming at me for keeping you in a warzone and then endangering you further by driving you home on the back of my motorcycle."

"True," Kelsie laughed. J.J. smiled awkwardly at her, but found himself unable to truly share in her joy, as his mind continued to chase itself in circles over this latest fight.

* * *

"You know, I think I've seen you buy yourself a drink maybe three times since you've been here," Gwen commented to J.J. later that evening. He was typing away on his computer with a tankard of mead next to him, which was half-empty already. Likewise, though he was ostensibly working on his novel, he wasn't really paying attention to what he was writing.

"Eh, leave him alone," Gary said, glancing over J.J.'s shoulder at the half-empty glass to see if he needed a refill. "It's a nice change, having him actually spend money here instead of just taking up space."

"Hey, my games bring you customers!" J.J. protested, glancing over the rim of his laptop at Gary. "I've earned the right to waste some of your table space!"

"Gonna start charging you a tax for it," Gary replied, moving away from them. Gwen frowned, peering at J.J. over his laptop.

"Quip all you want, I know when something is wrong with you," she insisted in a soft voice. "What gives?"

J.J. sighed and pushed his laptop away from him, picking up the tankard again and bringing it to his lips. However, he didn't take a swig from it, instead staring into its murky yellow contents with a pensive expression. "I… really don't know how to deal with Kelsie," he said finally.

"What happened?" Gwen asked. J.J. went over the details of the fight from earlier in the day, which Gwen hadn't been around to see. When he finished, he took another swig of the mead.

"Here's the problem that I keep going over," J.J. concluded somberly. "I really wanted to call her out for transforming again when I've told her not to. But… how can I condemn her if she was saving people? I mean, maybe she could have engaged Shards off without transforming, but doing so ensured that she was definitely strong enough to fight them. Can I really get mad at her for that?"

Gwen listened to him quietly as J.J. folded his hands, resting his chin on them. "But on the other hand, did she really transform to save people, or was it because of her D-former's corruption encouraging her to? Earlier, during the race, she was gleefully using her D-former to win. I can't help doubting that she transformed for completely altruistic intentions. I… really don't know how to handle it."

Gwen continued to watch him silently for several long moments before saying softly, "If you're that worried about it, why not just seal her? You've never had a problem with it before."

J.J. looked down at the table, swallowing. "I mean… I could," he admitted. "And if it was the only option, I suppose that I'd be willing to. But every time I consider it, I'm reminded that if I do that, she'll no longer be able to walk. Sure, it'd stop her from becoming a Diemon… but would it be worth it to rob her of her dreams? Is that the kind of life _she'd_ want to live?"

Gwen sat back slightly, folding her arms and gazing at J.J. levelly. "This isn't about her, is it?" she asked softly. "This is about you. You're still feeling guilty because you had a hand in getting her injured, and you're desperately grasping for some way to fix it. That's why you've let her keep the D-former for so long, when everyone else you've beaten down without batting an eyelash."

J.J. looked up, about to protest, but when she stared at him, he slowly closed his mouth and looked away, finding himself unable to meet her eyes. "It's… not just that," J.J. said meekly. "With the others, I didn't have a choice but to defeat them, and they had nothing to lose by becoming human again. This time, I have a chance to make it right, with Tristan's Fantasy Driver. I finally have a way to prevent her from becoming a Diemon while preserving her ability to walk. If that works-"

"And what if it doesn't?" Gwen interrupted, tilting her head. "What if that plan fails? Do you have a backup plan?"

J.J. swallowed again, still looking away. "I-" he replied, before shaking his head, unable to answer her. Gwen sighed, leaning back in her chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"You know, I thought you were stronger than this," she said softly. J.J.'s eyes widened as she looked back down at him. "Over the last few months, you've shown incredible courage. You've charged into situations most people run screaming from. But now you're paralyzed because you're looking for an easy way out, a path you can take that'll absolve you of your guilt. I really thought better of you."

J.J. wanted to refute her, but to his chagrin, he knew she'd struck the heart of his dilemma. "Regardless," he said weakly, "I still want to believe that I can save her."

"Do what you will," Gwen said with a shrug. "You're the one wearing the suit. Only you can make this decision. I just hope it doesn't backfire on you, and that you can live with the consequences if it does."

J.J. could feel how dry his mouth was, and he broke the lingering silence between them by taking another sip of his drink. As he set the glass down, however, his diary began vibrating, and moments later his phone began ringing. Raising an eyebrow, he decided to look at his phone first, and he saw that it was Kelsie's father.

"Huh. I thought they'd text if they wanted to talk," J.J. commented, trying to regain some of his usual irreverent tone while fighting off his growing concern. Clearing his throat, he answered the call and held the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Wells!" shrieked a voice on the other end, loud enough that J.J. immediately jerked the phone away from his ear, wincing in pain. "Get over to our house right now!"

"Mrs. Shaw," J.J. replied bitingly as he slowly returned the phone to his ear. "It's great to hear your voice again, but should you really be inviting me over like this? Won't your husband get suspicious? Think of the scandal!"

"I'm not in the mood for your smart mouth, boy," Karen hissed on the other end. "Get over here. Now."

"Why, what's wrong?" J.J. asked, feeling his stomach twisting itself up in knots again. Obviously, Karen had never called him before. "Is it something with Kelsie?"

"Of course it's something with Kelsie!" Karen screamed at him. "I don't know why you put her up to this, but I want it stopped! She's not listening to either me or Sam, and as much as I hate to say it, you're the only one she'll listen to! Now get over here!"

Karen hung up before J.J. could press her for details. He didn't feel he needed them, however, as his heart was beginning to pound in his chest, a direct response to the dread growing inside of him – a feeling that was becoming far too familiar, he realized.

"What is it?" Gwen asked softly, tilting her head. "You've gone pale."

"Really? I didn't think I could get any paler," J.J. laughed unconvincingly as he grabbed his leather jacket from off the back of his chair and swung it over his shoulders.

Gwen didn't laugh in return, instead holding his gaze steadily. "What's going on with Kelsie?" she asked simply.

"No idea," J.J. admitted turning to hurry out the door with Gwen hot on his heels. "That's what I'm going to go find out."

"J.J.," Gwen said softly, grabbing his arm and holding him still for a moment with surprising strength. He turned around and found himself pinned by the gaze of her icy blue eyes. "Be careful," she said softly, stepping a bit closer to put her arms around him. To his amazement, some of his anxiety abated from that simple embrace. "You've gotten yourself tied up in one hell of a mess with this girl, and I know it's been driving you mad. Just remember… I'm here for you, no matter what happens."

Slowly, J.J. wrapped his arms around her small body, and he squeezed her tightly for a moment, before gently pushing her away and smiling down at her. "I appreciate that. Truly," he replied softly, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "And hopefully this is something I can take care of quickly. I'll be back before you know it."

Gwen nodded once, but didn't look convinced. Which was fitting, J.J. thought bitterly. He wasn't even convincing himself. Nevertheless, he hurried across the parking lot, climbed aboard his bike, and set his diary on the dashboard. He then started the engine and immediately kicked off, speeding down the road towards Kelsie's house.

Usually, J.J. tried to obey traffic laws even when he was in a hurry, but he had so much stress clouding his mind that he was barely paying attention to what he was doing. He zoomed towards a parked police car while pushing eighty miles per hour. As soon as he realized this, he immediately slowed to the speed limit, but for a moment it looked as if the driver was about to chase him down. However, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the driver's partner grab her wrist and whisper something to her. The woman sighed and slumped back in her seat, allowing J.J. to pass. He nodded in gratitude, and the male cop gave him a thumbs up. Apparently, J.J. realized, the officer had recognized him even un-transformed thanks to his distinctive motorcycle, and he had decided that if J.J. was in a hurry, they shouldn't slow him down. In the back of his mind, he made a note of that, and highlighted it with a stern warning to himself not to abuse that privilege for something mundane. They wouldn't have to worry about him breaking ninety just to pick up some groceries.

As J.J. turned down the street where Kelsie's house stood, he noticed people were running screaming from what he suspected was whatever Karen had called him about. J.J. grimaced as he climbed off his bike and put his helmet on the handlebars before jogging in the opposite direction of the crowd the rest of the way.

Kelsie's house was on a street corner, and as he rounded it, he stopped and stared, frozen with horror at what he saw. Kelsie was in her Diemon form, hovering above the front lawn with her arms extended in a beatific stance as Shards shambled towards her slowly, their arms outstretched. As they drew close, they fell to the ground in front of her, prostrating themselves, while she gazed down at them. When they were close enough, however, she lifted her hooves and stomped on them, grinding them into the dirt. The Shards crumpled into dust at her feet, and every time this happened Kelsie let out a detached giggle.

Off to the side, Sam was holding Karen back as the woman screamed at her daughter. "Kelsie, listen to me!" she shrieked. "I am your mother, and I am telling you to stop this!"

Naturally, Kelsie blithely ignored the woman. As another Shard bowed before her, she sneered and lifted her hoof to stomp on it again. J.J. swallowed the sickness rising in his throat, and barked at her in a firm, clear voice, "Kelsie!"

One could hear a pin drop in the sudden silence that followed, as all parties turned to look at J.J. standing at the edge of Kelsie's lawn, his hands clenched. Kelsie's eyes widened in delight, and she floated over to him, leaving the Shards kneeling behind her, reaching for her desperately.

"J.J.!" she exclaimed happily. "Look! I figured out a way I can help you! I realized that if the Shards were coming after me when I use my Diemon form, I could gather them all here and eliminate them all at once! See? They don't even fight back!" To emphasize her point, she swung around and viciously kicked one of the Shards bowing to her, sending it sprawling across the grass before collapsing into a pile of ash.

"Wells, you'd better take care of th-!" Karen began, before Sam clapped a hand over her mouth. J.J. nodded in thanks before looking Kelsie in the eye.

"Kelsie, you need to stop this," he said firmly. The girl tilted her equine head at him, seeming confused by his demand.

"Why?" she asked simply. "I just said I'm helping you. And you said earlier today that the fewer Shards there are in the world, the better! So I'm taking care of that!"

"By executing them while they're helpless?" J.J. asked bluntly. Kelsie frowned at him, her wings fluttering in agitation.

"What, should I let them walk around attacking people instead?" she pointed out. "This way, we can get rid of them while they're not hurting anyone! It's as easy as stepping on cockroaches! I mean, when you have an infestation of those, do you wait for them to spread, or do you stomp on them before they become a problem?"

"That's not the point, Kelsie!" J.J. cried. "What you're doing, the way you're doing it, is wrong! I'm not going to say something like 'we must only defeat them in honorable combat,' but the way you're doing it… this is just another abuse of your powers! This is even worse than what you were doing earlier today at the race!"

Kelsie's frown deepened into a snarl, and she floated a bit closer to J.J. In her Diemon form, she towered over him, and J.J. was finding it hard not to shy away from her. "I was given this power to become a hero, J.J.," she growled. "What kind of a hero would I be if I knew there was a threat and didn't do everything in my power to eliminate it?"

"You wouldn't be a sociopath, for one," J.J. replied, folding his arms over his chest. "Haven't you ever wondered why I don't go out of my way to hunt down people who _might_ have D-formers? Why I only get rid of Shards that're on the streets attacking people? It's because I won't solve the problems our city is facing by cutting down everything that might be a threat. If a person has a D-former, I feel like I have to give them a chance to surrender it peacefully. And even though Shards are a threat, if they're not attacking people, I have no reason to go after them."

"Well, maybe you should," Kelsie hissed. J.J. was slightly taken aback by her fierce response. "If you were actively hunting these Shards down, maybe this war would already be over. If you were looking for the Black Seraph instead of just reacting to him, maybe you'd have beaten him by now. And if you'd just taken Irene's D-former away, I wouldn't have gotten injured in the first place and I wouldn't have ever become a Diemon! Everything that's happening right now is your fault!"

J.J. took a step back, as if her words had physically struck him. His mouth had gone dry, and he swallowed hard before replying hoarsely, "That's not fair, Kelsie."

"No, it's not!" she yelled at him. "It's not fair that I've had to suffer because of your inaction! How many others have suffered like I have, that you don't even know about? You're too soft to be a hero! You know, I don't know why I ever idolized you. Now that I really think about it, you're not the hero this city needs! But I can be. I'm tough enough to do what needs to be done to end this war."

J.J.'s guilt was suddenly replaced with a cold anger, and he narrowed his eyes at the girl. "So you're saying that I shouldn't have given you a chance either?" he murmured in a dangerously soft voice. "That when the Black Seraph offered you a D-former of your own, that I should have just turned my blade on you right then and there?"

Kelsie faltered, looking down at the ground. "I… don't know if you made a mistake there," she admitted softly. "I'm grateful that I got the chance to walk again…."

"And I'm glad I could fulfill your wish," J.J. replied softly, taking a step closer to the girl. "But look around you. Look at yourself. If I was acting this way, would you still admire me?" He motioned behind her at the row of Shards still bowing before her, awaiting her commands. "What if I suited up right now and beheaded all of those Shards? Would that be something you'd consider heroic?"

"It… would be the right thing to do for the people of the city," Kelsie murmured.

"Would it?" J.J. retorted. "Would you see me doing that and say to yourself, 'Yeah. I want to be just like him. That's how a real hero acts.' There's a reason why no story in existence has someone who's truly heroic do things like that, Kelsie."

Kelsie continued to avoid his eyes, coughing lightly. "But… what about people who have D-formers?" she asked. "Even me?"

"That's what I want to ask you," J.J. replied softly, bracing himself for what he feared was about to come. He was almost certain that he knew how this was going to play out. He'd seen it several times before, and every time he had attempted this, it had failed. But he still had to try. "Are you willing to actually be heroic? This has gone far enough, hasn't it? You've enjoyed the ability to walk again, and I've enjoyed seeing you happy. But now you're using your D-former not just to pursue your goals, but to cheat at something you love. And in the meantime, you've become a Diemon. You've become a monster that your idol has to fight, to save others. I really don't want to have to do that, Kelsie. You know what would be really heroic, though? Be the first person I can truly save. Willingly give me your D-former, allow me to put your stat page in my book, and let's end this before it devolves into yet another fight. Or, barring that, at least let me get Tristan's belt and try to contain your powers that way."

Kelsie looked up at him hopefully. "Will you… let me fight?"

"Not… at first," J.J. said, trying to compromise with her. "Maybe down the road, but not until we know more about how the D-formers work and interact with Tristan's belt. Maybe once we're sure they're safe and you've had some training so you can learn to use them properly… then we can see. But until then, I need you to be patient."

Kelsie was clearly wrestling with his request, and she began to pace back and forth in midair as J.J. watched her intently, trying to keep calm. He didn't think his request was too unreasonable, and he figured that he might be able to renege on it, or at least keep finding ways to keep her from fighting, even if she did have Tristan's belt. But he needed her to agree, he thought silently, chewing on his lower lip.

"That's… not good enough," Kelsie said finally, slowly turning towards J.J., her wings sweeping around behind her. J.J.'s heart sank. "I already told you that I don't think you're decisive enough to properly fight this war by yourself, and you need help to do it. I'm afraid I can't let you seal my powers away, since I can make better use of them than you can. Besides… you know what would be really heroic? What if I intentionally used my D-former, but only used it for good? Isn't that noble, using something that's meant for evil for the sake of good?"

"I… Kelsie, no!" J.J. insisted, giving her a pleading look as his arms dropped to his sides. "That's too risky! I've seen what happens when people think they can use their D-formers with good intentions! It always backfires! Please, I'm really trying to give you the best way to settle this!"

"Well, I'll be different!" Kelsie said defiantly, towering over J.J. again, glaring down at him. "I can control it!"

"You can't! You haven't! Look at yourself!" J.J. cried.

"You have my answer," Kelsie said stubbornly. "Now, get out of my way. I have a city to protect."

"Kelsie!" J.J. screamed, but she suddenly swept her wings forward, buffeting him with a gust of wind. J.J. was knocked backwards twenty feet and sent sprawling onto the grass. Before he could pick himself up and transform, she had taken flight and was already out of range for him to do anything, even with the ranged attacks of Mage Class.

J.J. slowly climbed to his feet as Karen stormed across the lawn towards him, her eyes burning with fury. Sam followed her at a distance, his expression somber.

"Well?!" Karen barked at him. "What're you going to do about this?"

J.J. bit his tongue hard. Keeping his voice calm, he looked up at the sky and shook his head. "I have one idea that might fix this," he explained softly. "I'm going to need a little time to get it arranged, though."

"And if that doesn't work?" Sam asked softly.

J.J. sighed, looking down at the ground. "Look… I've tried my damnedest to preserve Kelsie's ability to walk, but if worse comes to worse, I might have to seal her Diemon form, which will probably cripple her again. Can you accept that?"

"Yes," Sam said before Karen could answer. He walked over and put his hand on J.J.'s shoulder. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I'm the one that insisted you let her keep her D-former, and I shut my eyes to what she was becoming. I didn't mean to put this burden on you, and I hate to ask you to fix this. If it comes down to it, do what you have to do. I just want my daughter back."

Karen let out her breath as a hiss between her teeth before reluctantly nodding. "I agree. But let me warn you, Wells," she added, walking up to him and getting in her face. "I'm giving you permission to fight her if you must, but don't use any more force than absolutely necessary. If she comes back with more than a few scratches on her, I'm holding you responsible, and I will see that you pay for it. Understand?"

"It's not my intention to hurt her, I promise," J.J. replied. "And if what I have in mind works, that won't be an issue."

"It better not," Karen warned him, before stepping away and waving him off. "Go get our daughter back."

J.J. nodded once and sprinted back to his bike, climbing aboard and strapping his helmet on as quickly as he could before turning the engine on. He spun the bike around, heading towards Susumu's garage while keeping one eye on the sky. The entire time, he kept telling himself that things weren't past the point of no return yet. So long as he could get the Driver, everything would be fine… because he didn't know what he would do if he was wrong.


	19. Session 19

**Session 19**

J.J. turned his bike sharply, skidding to a halt on the loose gravel driveway outside of Susumu's garage. As soon as the kickstand was down, he jumped off his motorcycle and ran into the open garage, where Susumu and Tristan were hunched over a table, muttering to each other. When they heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel, they turned towards him, each wearing a surprised look on their faces.

"Susumu. Driver. Fixed?" J.J. panted as he tried to catch his breath, his voice underlining his growing panic.

"J.J. English. Proper. Use," Susumu quipped at him. His smile faded, however, when he saw J.J.'s harried expression. "What is it?"

"Kelsie went full Diemon," J.J. explained quickly. "And I don't mean just physically. Seems like the D-former's starting to affect her mind as well."

"Then why did you not defeat her?" Tristan asked accusingly, narrowing his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Because if the Driver can help her, I want to try using that first!" J.J. cried. "Now is it working or not?"

"It should be," Susumu said, motioning J.J. forward. "We haven't had the chance to try it out yet, but we followed all the instructions that Tristan's father left behind."

J.J. stepped forward and looked past Susumu at the belt lying on the table. The completed hand-sized shield was metallic blue and quartered into four parts, each section bearing a small symbol – a rearing stallion, a hedgehog, a soaring falcon, and a bull's head, all in gold. The shield was likewise outlined in dark gold, and polished so that it shone with a mirror finish. The belt itself was similar to J.J.'s, though the leather was black instead of brown. He also noted that the buckle was shaped to allow the shield to slot into it, and as J.J. turned the shield over, he noticed a small clip on the back that allowed it to attach to the buckle.

"Good. Can I take this?" J.J. asked.

Susumu and Tristan traded looks, and then Susumu let out a sigh. "You can, but it'd probably be better for us to test it out, to make sure it works."

J.J. hesitated, wanting to say that there was no time, but he wasn't stupid enough to go charging after Kelsie with a piece of equipment that wasn't working. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, before nodding once to Susumu. "Alright. Just hurry."

"What was Kelsie doing exactly that's got you so worked up?" Susumu asked as Tristan grabbed the belt and began wrapping it around his waist.

"She was stomping Shards into the dirt while they were bowing to her like a goddess," J.J. replied grimly. "It was… grisly. I never thought I'd feel sorry for mindless monsters, especially ones that've tried to kill me several times, but that… that was brutal."

Susumu grimaced as Tristan finished wrapping the belt around his waist, and he tossed the knight the shield. Tristan caught it and flipped it around in his hand, putting his thumb on the picture of the bull's head and pressing down. The bull let out a loud, bellowing moo, which brought a pleased smile to his lips. He paused, glancing at Susumu and J.J., who both nodded encouragingly. Tristan smiled faintly, then slotted the shield into the belt and pushed down on the bull's head.

There was a faint clicking sound, like Tristan had just unsnapped a seatbelt, and the bull mooed again, but nothing else happened. J.J. exhaled in a slow hiss, and Susumu's expression mirrored his disappointment.

"Of course it wouldn't work, because Murphy's Law loves kicking my teeth in lately," J.J. muttered, rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb.

"At least it's working partially. We're going to need to do some more tests, though," Susumu said, leaning heavily on his cane as he frowned at the belt in frustration.

"What if it just malfunctioned this time?" J.J. suggested, desperation starting to creep into his voice again. "Maybe it's just short-circuiting! Maybe it'll work if we try it again!"

Susumu stared at J.J. "Yeah, and maybe you can pull the battery out of your cellphone and expect to keep working too. From everything I can see about this Driver, this isn't magic. It's a piece of machinery, albeit one that uses magitek. Hopes and prayers aren't going to make it work because you want it to. You're grasping at straws."

"…I know," J.J. said with a defeated sigh, running his hand along his face. "I just… I really wanted this to work."

"I know you did. You had a lot riding on it," Susumu said sympathetically. "But now that it's failed…."

J.J. went pale, looking away as he followed Susumu's line of thought. "Now that it's failed, I might not have any choice but to fight her."

"It is difficult to turn your blade against one who you care for," Tristan said solemnly. "I understand that better than anyone. However, it also appears as though we have crossed the threshold where such actions are necessary. You have claimed that you would have the resolve to follow through with it if it got to this point. Do you still believe you possess it?"

J.J. took a deep breath, then nodded. "Yeah… but only if I have to. I still want to try talking to her one more time, and if that fails, I'll fight her. I don't like it, but taking away her ability to walk is better than letting her terrorize the city. I need to find her before someone – including her – gets hurt."

Tristan nodded once, before glancing at J.J.'s bike. "I shall accompany you, provided you have no objections."

J.J. smiled weakly as he motioned for Tristan to follow him. "Going to make sure that I actually follow through?" he asked with a wry chuckle.

"And to provide insight as I need to," Tristan replied. "My main piece of advice, though, is this: Do not think of her as your friend right now. Simply view her as another Diemon. It shall make what you must do that much easier."

J.J. chewed the inside of his cheek as Susumu tossed Tristan a spare helmet. The pair climbed aboard J.J.'s bike, and J.J. set his diary on the dashboard. It hadn't stopped vibrating since Kelsie had transformed, though it had grown fainter as he'd driven further away from her. Closing his eyes for a moment, he kicked his kickstand up and revved the engine once to steady his nerves. He then spun the bike around and began riding back into the city, hurrying as much as he could.

Thankfully, finding Kelsie wouldn't be particularly difficult this time, J.J. mused, trying to focus on the few positives in this situation. Since she was flying everywhere, he simply had to watch the sky. She also wasn't exactly subtle, so if there was a commotion somewhere in the city, it was likely to be her.

As he turned down Main Street, he gazed at the sky and saw a faint, silvery speck that was too close and too small to be an airplane. Kelsie's shining form stood out like an extra star in the velvet blue sky, and J.J. picked up the pace to catch up with her. Kelsie seemed to hear the roaring of the engine, as J.J. saw her look over her shoulder. Even from this distance, he could swear he saw her scowling, and without warning, she turned in midair and flapped her wings violently at him and Tristan.

Small glinting specks filled the sky and began plummeting towards them. As they fell, J.J. suddenly realized they were some sort of projectile, and he quickly swerved out of the way, his bike careening wildly across the road before coming to a stop. When the objects hit the ground, J.J. saw that they were silvery feathers, which stuck out from the pavement like arrows. Kelsie smirked at them over her shoulder before speeding away with another hard sweep of her massive wings.

"Guess she's not in the mood to talk," J.J. quipped, trying to keep his mood light.

"You should don your armor, page," Tristan suggested.

"I'd rather try to talk her down, if possible," J.J. insisted. "There's still a chance we can resolve this peacefully, if I can just speak with her."

"Perhaps. But aside from the protection it will afford you, consider that she admires you in your suited form. You may have more luck if you speak to her as her hero, rather than merely as a friend," Tristan pointed out.

J.J. opened his mouth, then closed it and grinned ruefully. "Damn. I hate when you make sense. And here I was all set to argue with you about why suiting up would just lead to a fight."

Tristan smiled faintly before glancing at the sky. "Quickly now," he insisted.

J.J. slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his diary. As he flipped it open to his stats page, however, he hesitated for a moment. Even though he knew it was necessary, transforming – even to protect himself – almost felt like he was admitting defeat and passing the point of no return with Kelsie. He'd honestly hoped that maybe they could resolve this without relying on his suit. J.J. sighed. It always ended with him having to put it on, he thought sadly.

He then banished that melancholy thought, and a determined look settled over his face as he held the open diary up to his left cheek. "Henshin!" he called out, and his belt appeared around his waist at his command. Slowly, he closed the book and slotted it into the belt buckle, before giving the central amber jewel a quick flick with his fingers, sending it spinning.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted, and as trumpets blared, J.J. was surrounded by an amber die, which spun around him rapidly while his body was covered in his brown leather armor. As the spinning stopped, he noticed Kelsie hovering in midair, staring at him silently. J.J. met her gaze, and when she didn't fly away, he took the opportunity to try and get her attention.

"Kelsie, come down!" he shouted up to her. "I just want to talk! We don't have to fight over this!"

Kelsie continued to gaze at him, and then he heard her let out a soft "hmph!" She folded her arms over her chest as her wings beat slowly, keeping her in midair.

"I already told you that I don't want to hear anything you have to say!" she shouted back at him. "Just leave me alone so I can do the job you've been failing at!"

"How have I been failing?" J.J. shot back, a bit of irritation creeping into his voice. "I've stopped every Diemon I've come across!"

"Yet they keep coming!" Kelsie pointed out. "You're treating the cough, but you're not killing the germs! And you haven't stopped everyone! What about that clown that's always hanging around? You're not even _trying_ to fight him anymore! Hell, I saw you chatting with him earlier today like you were best friends!"

J.J. winced as he felt the sting of those words, but he shook his head violently in denial. "I promise you, we're not friends," he shouted up to her. "And I'm not fighting him because I know I'd lose! For now, it's better to fight the Diemons I have a chance of beating! There's no shame in picking your battles, you know!"

"Yeah, well, he's still causing trouble and you're not doing anything to stop him!" Kelsie retorted. Then he saw her look up, as if an idea was dawning on her. "In fact, that'd be a good place for me to start! I'll beat him myself!" She looked back down at him, a grin spreading across her face. "Then you'll have to admit that I should be a hero!"

J.J. felt the blood drain from his face. "Kelsie, no!" he yelled up at her. "You don't know what you're up against! He's too dangerous!"

"Then help me fight him!" Kelsie replied. "Otherwise, stay out of the way!"

"Kelsie!" J.J. screamed, holding a hand out, but she responded by firing more feathers at him. He covered his face with his arm, but the darts landed harmlessly in front of him; they'd been nothing but a warning shot. As she took off again, J.J. lowered his hand and walked back to his bike, where Tristan was standing, waiting patiently with his hands folded behind his back. He didn't say anything, but J.J. could feel the disappointment radiating off of him.

J.J. let out a short hiss of irritation, then put his hand on the black D-former in his book's spine. He gave it a quick spin, and a cry of **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** resounded off the streets. Chimes played as he was enveloped in an onyx crystal, which spun around him, changing his armor into a black tunic. As the spinning stopped, J.J. once again mounted his bike, with Tristan sidling in behind him.

"Your ranged form. Mm," Tristan said. It wasn't a question. "So you've decided to engage her, then."

"I'm hoping I can knock her out of the sky before she does something stupid, and then I'll _make_ her talk to me. Even if I have to tie her down to do it," J.J. said. Tristan didn't respond.

J.J. kicked off and sped off down the street, which widened into a four-lane highway. There were few cars on the road, thankfully, but even so J.J. found himself weaving in and out of traffic. With the sky steadily darkening as night fell, he was having more difficulty spotting the faint, shining form of Kelsie, so he instead traveled in the direction Kelsie had flown off towards. After three minutes of riding, Tristan pointed to their right. J.J. followed his hand and saw Kelsie flying above an open field, giving J.J. an unobstructed chance to fire a few potshots at her.

J.J. slid into the right-hand lane so that he wasn't shooting over any passing cars, and while keeping the bike steady with his left hand, he pointed his staff with his right hand and let a burst of anger flare up inside of him at the thought of Kelsie rampaging. A fireball shot out of the end of his staff, quickly followed by two more. J.J. had tried to lead Kelsie generously, but the fireballs nevertheless drifted behind her, missing her completely. She didn't even seem to notice. J.J. tsked and pointed his staff a bit further ahead of her, letting out two more bursts of flame. This time, the fireballs flew much closer to her, and she only saw them at the last moment out of the corner of her eye. However, they were too slow to hit her, and she simply opened her wings and cut her speed in midair, so the bursts of fire missed her by a wide margin.

Kelsie snarled at him, and in response, she loosed a cloud of iron feathers in J.J.'s direction. J.J. wouldn't have seen them normally, but he recognized the movement of her wings, and he quickly shifted emotional states, calming down but keeping his simmering anger towards her as he focused on conjuring a wall of ice. A thick, clear sheet rose out of his staff in a semi-sphere, and the feathers embedded themselves into the ice, but didn't break it. J.J. lowered his staff, and stared at Kelsie, who sped up again.

"Page!" Tristan screamed. J.J. turned back around in time to jerk the handlebars to the side, narrowly avoiding rear-ending a car that was meandering along in front of him. He swore under his breath and revved the engine, but Kelsie had disappeared behind a copse of trees. J.J. doubted she had gone into the forest, instead figuring she was simply behind the treeline and continuing in a single direction.

"Do you have any suspicions as to where she is heading?" Tristan shouted at J.J. over the roar of the engine.

"No! And it's not like I know where to find the Fool!" J.J. replied. "I haven't even touched him once with my sword, so I can't track him with the diary. And that's assuming he's a Diemon and that we can even track him in the first place!"

"Then what is Lady Kelsie's destination?" Tristan shouted back.

J.J. shook his head, careening around a lazy curve as Kelsie shot out from the treeline above them. She looked down at J.J. and snarled, turning around in midair and sending a gust of air at him with her wings. J.J. tightened his grip on the handlebars to keep his bike steady, and as fast as they were going, the blast of wind did little to slow him down. If anything, it bought J.J. a little distance on her.

"Kelsie!" J.J. screamed at her, trying to get her attention, but she ignored him completely and once more flew off, scanning the area. At last, however, she seemed to recognize something, as J.J. could see a grin light up her features. She turned, flying west with a new sense of purpose.

J.J. pointed his staff at her again, but a wave of fatigue suddenly washed over him, and the bike wobbled a bit. Tristan's hand shot out and steadied the handlebars, keeping them straight while J.J. shook his head to dispel the dizziness. He was forced to slow down until he had regained his balance, at which point Tristan touched his shoulder.

"Do not bother expending more energy in fruitless attacks," Tristan instructed him. "Follow her. She is bound to land shortly."

J.J. nodded and pulled his diary out of his belt, reverting to Adventurer Class, before slotting it back in. He clicked his sword, which reverted to its quill form and flew back into the book, at which point he focused on driving. He kept one eye on Kelsie flying above them and the other on the road as he simply kept pace with her, noting that she couldn't out-fly him, and if he wanted to, he could potentially overtake her. That said, Tristan was right – he couldn't hit her from the ground, so it was better to wait until she landed.

Kelsie finally set herself down on top of a large building, at which point J.J. stopped at the foot of it. In the low light, he saw another figure dart away, cackling as it came to rest on a building on the opposite side of the street, so that J.J. was effectively looking up at the two figures shouting at each other from across the street he was on.

"Fool!" Kelsie barked, holding her arms out in a challenging pose. "I'm here to do what Page can't! I'm here to defeat you!"

"Oooh, this one is quite feisty, isn't she?" the Fool cackled. He leaned over the edge of the building, crossing his arms and resting them on the railing surrounding the edge of the building's roof, looking down at J.J. "We've been enjoying its latest performance so far, but we didn't expect to play a part ourselves! What fun!"

J.J. ignored the Fool, glancing between the buildings and running some quick calculations in his head. He backed towards Kelsie's building while staring at the wall of the Fool's building, then took a running start and jumped. He was able to leap halfway up the Fool's building before hitting the wall, at which point he pushed off in the opposite direction. The momentum carried him through the air, and he narrowly cleared the railing of Kelsie's building, landing in front of her. He held his hand out to her to stop her, shaking his head.

"Kelsie, seriously, don't!" J.J. pleaded with her.

"Oh, don't start with me," Kelsie snapped at him. "I already told you that if you're not going to put down threats to the city, I will."

"There's a reason why I've been avoiding fighting the Fool!" J.J. insisted. "He's too strong for me to beat, and he's definitely too strong for you!"

"So you shouldn't even try?" Kelsie retorted, snorting derisively. "That doesn't sound like something a hero should do."

"There's a difference between running from a fight and picking your battles," J.J. replied. "And there's a difference between having the courage to fight and recklessly starting one."

"You should listen, girl," the Fool called over J.J.'s shoulder, giggling. "If anything, it does at least have the wisdom to stay its hand when it knows it can't win. That is a lesson you could stand to learn."

J.J. glanced over his shoulder to shoot the Fool a dirty look. Even though his face was obscured by his helmet, his intent was clear, and the Fool doubled up laughing at J.J.'s reaction. Shaking his head, he turned back around to Kelsie and added patiently, "Please, Kelsie. I'm not telling you this because I think you're weak or you can't help me. I'm asking you to stand down because I don't want you to get hurt."

"You throw yourself into danger all the time," Kelsie scoffed at him. "I'm just following your example. But really, you shouldn't be jealous of my power. It's okay that I'm stronger than you. Just stay here and watch while I do your job for you."

Kelsie suddenly launched herself over the edge of the building, opening her wings and catching the wind as she threw herself at the Fool. The clown howled with glee and immediately dove off the building to avoid the attack. Once it hit the pavement, it bounced into the air again, effortlessly leaping to the top of the building that it had taken J.J. two jumps to clear. The Fool darted past him, and their gaze met for a moment as the harlequin passed him before reaching the other side of the roof and jumping again, leaping effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop.

Kelsie opened her wings and bolted after the clown, launching flachettes of iron feathers at its back, but each cloud impacted the ground harmlessly several inches behind the retreating jester. The Fool giggled maniacally as it ran, clearly taunting her.

A grunt of frustration left J.J.'s throat as the chase started up again, and his hand dropped to his blue D-former, which he gave a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** the Driver shouted, and a saxophone's brassy notes filled the air as J.J. ran after the pair. A sapphire die surrounded him and spun quickly as his outfit switched to a blue leather jacket and scarf combination. As soon as the transformation was complete, he immediately felt lighter.

J.J. sprinted after the pair, the enhanced speed of Thief Class allowing him to keep pace with them, but only barely. The Fool was far more agile than he was, and Kelsie's flight let her travel unhindered, so J.J. was struggling to keep them in sight. Beneath him, he heard the roaring of an engine, and as J.J. jumped from one rooftop to the next, he looked down and saw Tristan driving beneath him, also struggling to keep up with the chase.

Ahead of him, the jester and the Pegasus were engaged in a furious duel, with Kelsie periodically darting in to throw flying punches and kicks at the Fool. Even from here, J.J. could see how badly they were telegraphed, and the Fool was easily slipping out of the way of every blow, not even allowing her to make contact. It was clear that the clown was playing with her, even encouraging her to keep trying to hit him, as if they were playing a game of tag.

"Very good, very good!" the clown cackled as he slid on his knees beneath a spinning kick, before slipping into a runner's stance and using it to take off again. "You almost nicked me that time! Oooh, you are much more fun than that one back there!"

"I'm not here to amuse you!" Kelsie shrieked at him, throwing a hard left hook that the Fool almost allowed to graze its face before snapping its head out of the way. "Hold still so I can beat the crap out of you!"

"Oh, but what fun is that, if the villain is no challenge?" the Fool giggled. "Isn't the hero's struggle only worthwhile because the villain is so difficult to defeat? You've got my attention, girl, so make good use of it! If you want to put on a good performance for _your_ hero, then struggle more!"

"Dammit, Kelsie, ignore him!" J.J. panted, finally close enough to them that he could chip into the conversation. "I've already told you that you don't have to impress me! He's toying with you!"

"Yeah, I know he is!" Kelsie replied, turning to glare fiercely at J.J. as he got within range of them. "I don't care!"

"It would seem she's slipping deeper into her role, wouldn't it?" the Fool addressed J.J., leaping back from a pair of quick jabs from Kelsie. "Let us coax her a bit more, shall we?"

The Fool slipped its hand to its belt and withdrew its wooden sword, giving it a little twirl that J.J. couldn't help but see as a parody of his own nervous tic. Kelsie's blows were clearly getting slower as she tired herself out, and when she over-extended herself with a punch, the Fool suddenly stepped in and jabbed the wooden blade into her ribs. Kelsie let out a sharp cry as the wind was knocked out of her, at which point the Fool spun around, backhanding her across the face with the flat of the blade and sending her sprawling across the gravel rooftop.

Kelsie groaned in pain, and J.J. started towards her, grimacing at her twisted position. She slowly began to push herself up, and when she saw J.J. watching her, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Help me, Page!" she barked at him. "Attack him!"

J.J. hesitated, glancing over at the Fool. The harlequin tilted its head at him, letting out a soft giggle, before opening its arms in invitation, daring J.J. to strike. J.J. swallowed, immediately understanding how such an exchange would end.

"If… if she stops attacking you, will you back off?" J.J. asked slowly.

"We have no reason not to," the jester shrugged. "After all, she is the one that attacked us. We were minding our own business."

J.J. looked back at Kelsie, who had managed to climb to her knees, and he took a deep breath before telling her, "Kelsie, stand down. This is pointless."

Kelsie's eyes widened in shock and rage at J.J.'s request. "You're seriously siding with him?!" she shrieked incredulously.

"It's not siding with him!" J.J. protested. "But there's no reason to fight right now!"

"There's every reason to fight right now! He's working with the Black Seraph! You know, the thing that's caused this mess in the first place?!" Kelsie roared at him. "You're just refusing to fight him because you're afraid you're going to lose! You're a coward!"

J.J. winced, as she wasn't completely wrong, but he continued arguing with her nonetheless. "You can say that, but right now you're the one acting more like a villain," he shot back. "You picked this fight!"

"And it's hardly heroic to start a fight and then demand someone else finish it for you," the Fool added, cackling.

"You shut up and stay out of this!" J.J. snapped. The Fool laughed even harder at his demand.

"Yeah, well I'd rather try and put an end to this war than simply wait until something bad happens and react to it! Which is all you've been doing!" Kelsie accused him. "But if you're not going to help me, then fine. I've got my second wind. I'll finish this clown here and now, even if you insist on staying out of it!"

"Yes, because you've done such a wonderful job up to this point," the Fool snickered, opening his arms again in a gesture of welcome to the girl. "Come, then."

J.J.'s eyes widened as Kelsie threw herself at the Fool again, and in response, he dove between them. In a quick, almost instinctive movement, he blocked the Fool's sword with one dagger and held the other up to Kelsie's face, trying to separate the two.

"Kelsie, please, just power down!" J.J. pleaded with her. In response, she brought her leg up and kicked him hard in the stomach. J.J. gasped and staggered backward, the wind knocked out of him, as she grabbed the Fool's arm and twisted it, trying to disarm him. The clown let out a shrill, pained cry, its sword falling to the ground. Kelsie grinned, and still holding the Fool's arm, began pummeling it with repeated punches to the face, as the Fool grunted with each blow, not defending itself.

As J.J. recovered by sucking in air, he watched her drive the Fool backward with every punch, each swing growing wilder and sloppier as the Fool's neck kept snapping backward with the force of the blows. When she finally had him at the edge of the building, he was sagging, apparently exhausted by her onslaught.

"We… we cannot…." the Fool muttered in a dazed voice.

"I've won!" Kelsie crowed triumphantly, and for a split second, J.J. wanted to believe her. However, he remained skeptical, both because he'd fought the Fool before and knew how strong they were, and because he'd read too many stories with this exact situation to believe it was actually over.

"Kelsie, don't!" J.J. screamed at her. The Fool glanced at him over Kelsie's shoulder as she cocked her fist back, and it let out a shrill giggle before grabbing her hand.

"At least one of you has a brain," the Fool laughed, and it suddenly drove its fist into Kelsie's unprotected stomach. The girl doubled over in pain before the harlequin lifted her off the ground and threw her over the edge of the building, cackling madly the entire time.

J.J. raced past the Fool to look over the edge of the building in horror. Kelsie plummeted to the ground, but at the last moment managed to open her wings and cut some of her velocity. Still, she slammed into the street hard, and even from where he was J.J. could hear her cry out dully in pain before she went still, her body lying limply on the pavement.

J.J. immediately threw himself over the edge of the building, clinging to the edge of it as he slid down the wall before pushing off about twenty feet from the ground and landing lightly on his feet next to Kelsie. The girl was still not moving, but as J.J. ran over to her, he saw that she was merely stunned, and didn't seem to have suffered any lasting damage.

"You idiot, this is why I was telling you to stop while you can!" J.J. pleaded with her as he knelt beside her, lifting her head up to look into her equine eyes. Kelsie looked at him blearily, but as her focus slowly returned, she shook her head and pushed herself up with a groan.

"No… I can't stop now," Kelsie insisted, coughing as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She looked up at the building looming above her, where the Fool was waiting patiently, his arms folded as he leaned casually on the railing. "A hero wouldn't give up. A hero wouldn't admit defeat."

J.J. sighed and buried his face in his palm, shaking his head. "Kelsie, you're ascribing all these traits to heroism, just so you can justify how you've been acting. A hero does this, a hero does that. That's not how heroism works! Listen to me. I've been doing this for a few months now, and while I don't consider myself a hero – nor will I ever – I have learned a few things that I wish you would as well. Recklessness is not courage. Aggression is not justice. Patience is not cowardice, and caution is not weakness. It's admirable that you want to use your powers to do the right thing, but you're using them the wrong way."

Kelsie blinked up at him, tilting her head. "Maybe… maybe you're right."

J.J.'s eyes widened behind his helmet, and he smiled down at her. Did he finally have her attention. "So you'll stand down?"

Kelsie sighed, looking down at the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tristan approaching them, his hands behind his back.

"Has the situation been resolved?" Tristan asked softly, kneeling down beside Kelsie. J.J. smiled behind his helmet, looking down at Kelsie.

"I hope so. What do you say, kiddo?" he asked Kelsie cheerfully. His smile faltered, however, when she didn't answer him, instead looking away from him. "…Kelsie?"

J.J. followed her gaze to the Driver strapped around Tristan's waist. Her gaze was hungry, longing, as she stared at the belt buckle like she was inches away from the most precious gemstone in the world. In a soft voice, she asked, "That… belt was repaired? And… you didn't tell me?"

J.J. blinked, feeling a cold dread settle over him at her quiet, detached tone. "It's… not exactly fixed yet, Kelsie," J.J. warned her, holding her a bit more tightly, fearing what her next actions might be. "Susumu hasn't gotten it to work, and it failed when Tristan tried it-"

"It's right there," she murmured, pushing herself up and opening her wings to gently nudge J.J. off of her, staring at Tristan's belt obsessively. "That's it, isn't it?" Kelsie added, looking over her shoulder at J.J. with a broad, slightly detached grin starting to spread across her equine face. "That's how I can use my powers properly, right? With the Driver? You should have told me in the first place! I would've happily listened to you if you'd said the Driver was ready!"

"It's not!" J.J. repeated, raising his voice to try and get Kelsie to listen to him. "And until it is, you need to stop using your powers!"

"No, it's okay now, J.J.," she insisted soothingly, advancing on Tristan. The knight began to back away, dropping into a defensive posture as she loomed over him. "That's the answer. It'll work for me. It always works out in the end because it's meant to. I just have to believe it will."

Before Tristan could respond, she suddenly backhanded him across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Tristan grunted, throwing himself to the pavement to absorb some of the impact from the fall, minimizing the damage, but he was still stunned by the blow. Kelsie reached down for the belt, grabbing it and yanking it from Tristan's prone form.

"Kelsie, stop it!" J.J. shouted at her, leaping for her, but Kelsie floated out of the way as J.J. dove at her, trying to grab her before she flew off. She landed forty feet away from him and powered down, leaving her in her human form as she looked at the belt with a triumphant grin.

"Finally! I can be a Kamen Rider!" she exclaimed, strapping the belt around her waist. She then pulled the azure shield from the center of the belt and examined it curiously, her grin melting into a curious frown. "How do I work you, though?"

J.J. watched as she pushed the bull icon, which let out a loud moo-ing sound, and Kelsie grinned brightly. "Ah, so that's it!" she grinned, looking up at J.J. "Now you don't have any reason to keep me out of the fight, do you?"

"I have a dozen good reasons to keep you out of the fight, not the least of which being the fact that the belt doesn't belong to you!" J.J. snapped at her. "That's Tristan's Driver, and until he gives it to you, you're stealing it! Do you want to add that to the list of everything you've done wrong tonight?"

"It'll be worth it," Kelsie replied airily, holding the buckle above her head. "If Tristan couldn't get it to work, then maybe it's rejected him! Maybe it's looking for a new master, just like your diary did with you!"

"That's insane, Kelsie!" J.J. screamed. "That's not how this works!"

"There's one way to find out," she said simply, holding the shield above her head in a dramatic pose. At the top of her lungs, she screamed ecstatically, "Henshin!"

In a quick movement, she slipped the buckle into the belt and once again pushed the bull icon. Again, the belt let out a loud moo, and for a split second, J.J. wondered if he was about to see her transform. A few seconds ticked away in silence, however, and nothing happened. Kelsie's grin began to fade, a look of annoyance, and then desperation spreading across her face as she pushed the other buttons. They made various bestial sounds, but nothing else happened, and she was left standing dumbly in front of J.J., still in her human form.

"Why? Why?!" she shrieked, furiously slamming the buttons, desperately trying to transform, as J.J. shook his head and slowly approached her.

"That's what happened with Tristan earlier," J.J. said softly, trying to calm her down. "The belt's not quite fixed yet, which is why I didn't tell you about it. I didn't want you to get your hopes up in case it didn't work."

"No! No, it has to work!" Kelsie shouted, tearing the shield out of the buckle before slamming it back in. "Work, dammit!"

"Kelsie, settle down," J.J. soothed her, standing in front of her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "It's alright. Just give me the belt back and we can take it back to Susumu to get it fixed."

Kelsie stared at the ground, her shoulders slumped, and J.J. wondered if she was crying. He knelt down, trying to peer in her face, when she finally said in a muted voice, "I don't need it."

"I… yeah, that's right," J.J. said, trying to encourage her, though her tone made him frown. "It's just a trinket. Just like your D-former. It's not who you are, it's just a tool we're trying to use to help you. That's why you shouldn't worry about transforming."

"Yeah… it's just a trinket. It's not who I am," Kelsie agreed, looking up slowly. J.J.'s heart stopped as he saw that she was wearing an insane, unhinged grin as she peered up at him. She looked like she had completely snapped.

"Uh… Kelsie?" J.J. asked cautiously.

"A belt doesn't make a hero," she murmured to herself. "What makes a hero is the belief that you _are_ a hero." She looked down at the D-former in her hand, her grin spreading wider. "And that's what I will be. What I am. With or without your help, Page," she said, looking up at J.J. as her eyes began to glow silver. "I… am… a… HERO!"

At her last word, Kelsie was engulfed in a blinding silver light, and a wave of concussive force slammed into J.J. He was thrown backwards, as if he'd just tried to step into a hurricane, and he crashed unceremoniously into the pavement with a loud gasp of pain. Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his elbows shielding his eyes as he tried to gaze into the light. The nebula around her slowly dissipated, and as it did, J.J. let out a soft gasp of, "…No!"

Once again, Kelsie had assumed her Pegasus-like Diemon form, but with marked differences. The most notable was the fact that her silvery skin was now interlaced with glowing silver-white lines carved in the shape of runes, and her eyes were likewise shone like two silver stars. The muscles rippling beneath her darker grey skin seemed more defined, and her wings had a sleek, almost metallic look to them, with each feather seeming more like they had been meticulously carved out of aluminum.

J.J. pushed himself to his feet, slowly approaching Kelsie, who floated idly in midair, looking silently down at her hands. "Kelsie?" he asked cautiously, keeping his blades low to avoid appearing threatening.

Kelsie slowly turned to gaze at him, silently appraising him for several long moments, before her eyes fell on the daggers in his hands. Looking up again, she suddenly flew at him, racing at a speed that he could barely follow. Before he had the chance to dodge or block, she lowered her shoulder and rammed into him, knocking him aside effortlessly. As he hit the ground again, she flew past him, taking flight once more and quickly becoming a glowing speck in the distance, a shooting star in the night sky.

Tristan jogged over to him as J.J. picked himself up, checking himself briefly before deciding that he was unharmed. The knight looked up at the sky as well, with a frown on his face. "Was that…?"

He was interrupted by raucous laughter from above them. Looking up, they both saw the Fool standing on the railing of the building above them, doubled over in laughter. "Oh, this is wonderful!" it screeched. "We were expecting a tragedy, but we never expected it to allow the girl to achieve Apotheosis!"

Chilling apprehension began to creep through J.J. as the Fool jumped down from the building, landing lightly in front of them, still giggling. "You keep saying that," J.J. said slowly. "Will you tell me what Apotheosis is, exactly?"

"Ah, we have no reason to, but… as thanks for how entertaining this play has been? Very well," the Fool shrugged. "When our Master bequeaths a jewel to someone, it is with the understanding that they wish to pursue a specific role, and that jewel gives a person the abilities they require to achieve it. Only when one fully embraces their role does the jewel bind to them completely. That is what we call Apotheosis."

"To what end?" J.J. growled.

"Ah-ah, our Master's designs are not ours to divulge," the Fool tsked, waving its finger back and forth. "Its performance is not _that_ entertaining."

"It matters little right now, page," Tristan said, putting his hand on J.J.'s shoulder. "Focus on the task at hand. What will you do about your wayward ward?"

J.J. shook his head. "We have to go after her. Kelsie's become obsessed with becoming a hero, but she seems hazy about what it is a hero does. If her idea of a hero is one that's proactive and goes out looking for fights…." He went pale, his eyes suddenly lighting up under his helmet. "She could be scouting the city for anyone she thinks is a criminal, and with her strength, she's liable to kill them."

"Then… she must be forced to stop," Tristan said slowly.

"Yeah…." J.J. sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Like I said, I really don't want to seal her powers away if it's going to mean she's paralyzed again, but this has gone too far, and we've tried everything. Taking away her ability to walk is a small price to pay if the tradeoff is letting her kill people. She has to be sealed."

"Ah, but can it do that, we wonder," the Fool commented idly. "Particularly when that girl no longer has a human form to return to."

J.J.'s heart froze, and he slowly turned to face the Fool. "Explain," he said shortly.

The Fool let out a slow, dark chuckle. "What does it think Apotheosis is?" the Fool asked.

"It's a power boost, clearly," J.J. replied cautiously, remembering how powerful Justin had become when he'd done the same thing.

"It is far more than that," the Fool replied. "As we said before, the jewel binds itself to the user. They are no longer merely trying to fulfill a role – they have _become_ that role. They are no longer wearing the skin of what it calls a Diemon; they _are_ a Diemon. Thus, we wonder if it can turn its blade on that girl with the knowledge that if it defeats her… she will die."

J.J. felt a shock run through his body at that declaration, and he actually stumbled back a step. When he caught himself, his heart was racing.

"I have no reason to believe you," J.J. said quickly.

"We have no reason to lie," the Fool retorted calmly, folding its arms. "We are merely answering its question about what Apotheosis is. Should it face the girl in combat, one will be killed." The clown let out a soft titter as it added, "And that is why this play is so wonderful to watch. No matter what route it takes, it will end in tragedy. How delicious!"

J.J. shivered, his breathing becoming shorter and more rapid as Tristan came up behind him, clapping him forcefully on the back. "Pay him no heed," Tristan said softly. "The Fool is merely trying to break your resolve. The longer you hesitate, the more people are at risk. That will further whatever plans the Fool and the Black Seraph has."

J.J. took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down as he turned to look at Tristan. "Yeah… you're right," he said finally, before reaching down and tapping his diary. "Besides, I have this. I know how much damage she'll take, and if I'm careful, I can hit her just hard enough to knock her out of her Diemon form and turn her human again. After all, you once said before that it was impossible, and I proved you wrong then. I just have to be even more careful this time. Right?"

"Indeed," Tristan said, smiling tightly, though J.J. noted that it seemed forced. He couldn't help but feel that they were both trying to convince themselves in the face of the Fool's proclamation. But it was all they had.

"Ah, denial," the Fool chuckled. "It would not be a complete tragedy if they did not struggle against the chains they've bound themselves in. This shall be fun! Go! We wish to watch the final act!" the Fool cackled. Turning around, it bounced away, its mocking laughter echoing off the buildings as it departed.

J.J. smacked both cheeks of his helmet, forcing himself to focus, before walking over to his bike and climbing aboard. "Come on. She'll be easy to track, at least," J.J. said, trying to keep his voice steady. Tristan nodded once, climbing onto the bike behind him, and J.J. immediately took off again towards the downtown section of the city.

Thankfully, this time they found Kelsie almost immediately. Perhaps it was because she had much more power in her ascended state, but J.J.'s diary was able to track her far more easily, even from a distance, and within two minutes, they had arrived at a narrow alleyway. J.J. brought his bike to a screeching halt as he caught a glint of shining silver out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced to his left to see Kelsie slowly stalking towards a man wearing a black outfit, backing away from her and brandishing a knife.

"St-stay back!" he shouted as Kelsie advanced on him, her wings open. In response to his pleas, she opened her wings menacingly, sending the man tumbling backwards into a pile of trash cans.

J.J. dismounted from his bike, putting his hand on his blue D-former as he did. As he was still in Thief Class, when he spun it, a cry of **"Critical!"** resounded through the streets. Despite this, Kelsie didn't turn around, instead continuing to stalk towards the man as he screamed hysterically.

A sapphire crystal once again surrounded J.J. for a moment before coalescing on one of his daggers, making it glow bright blue in the dim light. J.J. lined up his blade with one eye closed, then hurled the knife at Kelsie's unprotected back. To his relief, it struck her directly between her wings, a shower of sparks flaring up as the energy discharged. Kelsie barely seemed to feel it, however, as she slowly turned around, a murderous look in her glowing eyes. J.J. caught his dagger as it flew back to him, giving it a little twirl before pulling his diary off his belt and reverting to Adventurer Class.

In a quick motion, he opened the diary and glanced down at Kelsie's stat page. To his relief, he saw the manticore's poison was already taking effect, draining her health, albeit very slowly when compared to when he had used it on Justin. He'd used the Poisoned Dart Critical while hedging a guess that Apotheosis merely restored one's health to full, but didn't make a Diemon immune to his attacks. Thus, all J.J. had to do now was keep Kelsie busy and wait for her health to drop to nothing.

J.J. snapped his book shut and looked up at Kelsie, who was gazing at him silently. He held his arms out challengingly, calling out to her, "What's wrong, Kelsie? I'm stopping you from performing your duty as a hero. Doesn't that make me a villain? And I'm the more immediate threat, too! Come on, forget that guy and come at me instead."

Kelsie continued to gaze at him, as if weighing his challenge. J.J. knew it was risky, taunting Kelsie when she was clearly mentally unstable, but he had to get her away from the guy before she killed him. Thankfully, the man had enough sense to flee in the opposite direction and out of sight, leaving J.J. the sole target she could focus on.

Kelsie suddenly opened her wings again and flew at J.J., charging at him almost too quickly for him to react. Fortunately, he'd been expecting a sudden attack, and the moment she moved, his hand dropped to his belt, his thumb finding his red D-former and giving it a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** the Driver shouted, and war drums played as a ruby jewel sprang into existence, surrounding him and separating him from the furious Pegasus.

As the die spun around him, J.J. felt a thrill of fright run through him as Kelsie continued to push against the thin crystal wall. What terrified him most were her blank, glowing eyes, as they were simultaneously emotionless and full of killing intent. Thankfully, she was finally thrown backward by the force of the die spinning around him, and when it dissipated, he was clad in his red lamellar armor, his hammer hoisted over his shoulder.

Like in his fight with Justin, his strategy was to play defense and try to wear her down while the poison worked its way through her body. To do that, he would have to rely on Warrior Class's improved armor and strength, even though he knew how fast she was. Even in Thief Class, he could barely keep up with her, and he was now in his slowest form. He was essentially throwing away his chance to land anything but a lucky strike in the hopes that the poison would do its job and weaken her enough to bring her down to his level.

Though the die had given J.J. a bit of space, once he was no longer protected, Kelsie once again launched herself at him, raining a flurry of punches on him. As he'd suspected, J.J. could barely defend himself. Warrior Class could absorb blows, but all of his classes were more geared towards offense, and he could only tank attacks for so long. Thus, though he barely felt the first couple of blows, her next few strikes hit him hard enough to send him reeling. He stumbled away from the onslaught, dazed, as she floated into the air, then dove at him, her leg extended.

J.J. brought his hammer up in time, catching her kick on the haft, but the sheer weight of the blow sent him skidding backwards into a wall, which he crashed into. He let out a pained gasp as his back collided with it, and he felt the bricks behind him buckle slightly, leaving a crater. He groaned as Kelsie grabbed him by the neck and slammed her fist into the side of his helmet, knocking him to the pavement.

Before she could continue the onslaught, J.J. flailed out with a wild blow of his hammer. Luckily, he caught her in the shin, and while he could tell that attack did little damage, it did make her stumble slightly, long enough for him to push himself up and scramble away from her. With that pause, he checked himself mentally. Nothing seemed to be broken, though his back was throbbing with pain and his jaw felt slightly displaced. The power she had was astounding. If he'd tried to take those blows in Thief Class, she would have knocked him out of his suit in a few hits, and in his human form she would have killed him.

Worse, he noticed that the poison didn't seem to be having much effect on her. By the same point in his battle with Justin, the centaur was already started losing his footing, but Kelsie didn't show any signs of getting weaker. J.J. ground his teeth in frustration.

Gripping his hammer and ignoring the pain, he charged in, swinging at her with a hard diagonal blow that she simply floated backward to avoid. Keeping his momentum, he swung around in a circle and attacked her with another horizontal blow, which she again dodged easily before opening her wings and ascending into the sky. She then opened her wings even more and loosed a volley of feathers. J.J. rolled out of the way, but let out a cry of pain as two or three embedded themselves in his left shoulder, piercing through the thick armor of his suit. He winced as he grabbed the feathers and tore them out of his skin, letting them fall to the ground.

Above him, Kelsie folded her arms, gazing at him silently. He wondered if she was taunting him. He didn't blame her – it was clear to both of them that he couldn't keep up with her in her Apotheosis state. He needed to regroup and figure something else out.

As she wasn't bothering to attack him, he pulled his diary out again and reverted to his base class, checking her stats again. To his surprise and relief, the poison was indeed affecting her – her health was down by a fifth, even though she wasn't showing any signs of slowing. However, that elation was short-lived, as when he glanced at his own stats, he noticed his health had dropped by a third. Simply defending wasn't going to be enough, he thought. Maybe he would be better served amping up his offense.

Sliding his diary back into place, he put his hand on his black D-former and gave that a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** the Driver shouted, and he was engulfed in an onyx die as chimes sounded in the air. His leather armor softened into cloth, and as the spinning stopped, he was clad in a black tunic.

Before the spinning had stopped, Kelsie was already diving at him, intending to take advantage of Mage Class's weakness at close range. However, she'd jumped the gun, giving J.J. time to counter her. As the die stopped spinning, he lowered his staff and let out a short yell. A blast of fire erupted from the end of his staff, hitting Kelsie square in the face. Her body then collided with him, knocking him to the ground and making him cry out in pain as he felt the full force of the impact. Groaning, he rolled over, and saw that thankfully he wasn't the only one hurting. Kelsie was wiping her eyes, blinded by J.J.'s attack. J.J. quickly picked himself up, gripping his staff. He was suddenly struck with an idea, a way to take advantage of his ranged capabilities while preventing her from landing a clean hit.

Using the time his fireball had bought him, he began coating the ground in a thick layer of ice, surrounding himself out to the end of the street. As Kelsie finished swiping at her eyes, she turned in time to see J.J. point his staff at the ice and ignite it with a stream of fire. The ice immediately melted, and a thick layer of steam filled the air, concealing J.J. While he could have used that time to hit Kelsie with multiple blasts of magic, he figured that with her defenses as high as they were, he wasn't going to be able to land a knockout blow this early on. He needed to fight a battle of attrition, and with his defense lowered, he'd have to play it smart. This way, he could keep changing his position while lobbing spells at her, hopefully wearing her down while denying her a good chance to counterattack.

J.J. ducked into the mist, keeping low, as he gazed through it to see Kelsie hovering above him, trying to peer through the fog. He pointed his staff at her and loosed a trio of fireballs at her, before immediately rolling deeper into the mist. As he'd expected, she dodged the blasts and responded by firing a few iron feathers at the spot where the shot had come from. He did this a couple more times, before she finally exposed her back to him while looking around for him. Smiling grimly, he loosed a fireball at her back, and this time the blast struck her, knocking her forward slightly. Kelsie swung around and dove into the mist, something he hadn't been expecting, and he immediately pressed himself flat on the ground to avoid being spotted. She flew over him, but thankfully didn't see him, and pulled up when that attempt proved fruitless.

J.J. pushed himself to his knees and again pointed his staff at her, but Kelsie suddenly opened her wings and swept them forward. A powerful gust of wind swept across the street, and J.J. threw his hand up as he stumbled backward slightly. When he lowered his hand, he realized that the fog had been cleared, and Kelsie was now staring directly at him, a look of silent fury on her face.

As the girl opened her wings and dove at him, J.J. quickly put his hand on his black D-former, but before he could spin it, she grabbed him and lifted him into the air. J.J. clung to her arm in fright, but her left hand began jabbing at his ribs with powerful blows that his cloth armor wasn't designed to take. Each hit felt like he was being beaten with a metal bat, and he was amazed that none of his ribs cracked. His grip weakened, however, and when she decided he'd had enough, she turned him around so that he was staring at the ground. For a moment, he was too dazed to react, but then he realized what she was about to do and clawed at her arms, struggling to stay in her grasp. When he looked up, however, she gazed at him pitilessly, and then let him go.

J.J. screamed as he plummeted three hundred feet to the ground. As he fell, he briefly considered switching to one of his other forms to throw up another energy shield, but he didn't have time to carry out that plan. With a sickening crunch, he hit the ground, collapsing in a heap. J.J. groaned, slowly pushing himself up, his head spinning. Miraculously, nothing seemed to be broken, but his entire body ached from the force of the impact.

Kelsie landed in front of him and began walking towards him at a slow, patient gait, like a lioness about to finish off her prey. J.J. pushed himself into a sitting position and began scrambling backwards, trying to climb to his feet as the Pegasus advanced. "St-stay away!" J.J. shouted at her, panicking as she continued calmly stalking towards him. When she was within ten feet, however, he smirked behind his helmet and put his hand on his black D-former, giving it a quick spin.

 **"Critical!"** the Driver shouted, and Kelsie paused as J.J. brought his staff around, pointing it at her. The black die that surrounded him coalesced on the tip of his staff, and J.J. let out a short breath before releasing the energy. A surge of freezing water washed over Kelsie, hitting her with the force of a fire hose. J.J. focused on her wings, as he knew the attack wouldn't be enough to finish her, but the more he could hinder her, the better a chance he had as this fight continued. Her wings were her main advantage, and he had to do what he could to seal them.

As the Ice Storm Critical ran out, J.J. was left panting from the energy expenditure, but Kelsie's wings were now encased in a thick layer of ice. The girl tentatively tried to move her wings, but the ice held firm, and they finally dropped loosely behind her. J.J. smiled grimly as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

"Now… this is… a bit… more fair," he panted, pulling his diary out of his belt again and reverting back to Adventurer Class once more as he checked their stats. To his chagrin, she was down to about half health, but it was no longer steadily dropping. Perhaps the manticore poison only worked for so long or could only do so much damage, he mused. Worse, he had less than a quarter of his own health left. Growing panicked, he looked up at Kelsie, who was simply standing there, staring at him.

"Wait…." he murmured, peering at Kelsie more closely. He realized that her shoulders and chest were heaving, and her breath was coming in deep snorts. She wasn't just giving him time to recover, she was also trying to catch her own breath. Even though it was only a faint indication, she was getting tired. Not that it was much of an advantage – J.J. was utterly exhausted, between all the damage he'd sustained and using multiple Criticals back-to-back – but there was a slim chance he might be able to win this fight if he pressed her.

J.J. smiled faintly and put his diary back in his belt again, muttering to himself, "Well… if that's the case, only one chance left." He put his hand on his blue D-former and spun it once again. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his Driver bellowed into the air, and a saxophone played as he was surrounded by a sapphire die, which spun around him quickly and once more clad him in his navy blue jacket. As the spinning stopped, he gave the daggers a little twirl. He figured that none of his forms could take another hit, so he might as well switch back to the form that was best suited for avoiding hits altogether. And depending how tired she was, he might finally be able to out-class her in speed, especially with her wings currently unusable. Kelsie, meanwhile, continued to gaze at him quietly, waiting for him to make the next move.

J.J. skirted forward, tentatively getting inside of Kelsie's range and swiping at her hand. She responded by throwing a punch, which J.J. was able to dodge. He ducked in and lightly slashed at her with his left dagger, and she moved to block it, but J.J. realized that he could see the movement. Smiling grimly, he shifted his arm and sliced her wrist, opening a shallow wound on her arm, which began glowing silver like the runes coating her body. This confirmed it for him – he was now faster than her.

Emboldened by this, J.J. stepped closer and began slicing at her with short, rapid cuts, keeping his left dagger in front of him for defense while attacking with the right. Each slash only opened a shallow wound, but the cuts were starting to pile up. Within thirty seconds, he had managed to land eight blows on her arms before Kelsie finally jumped back to regroup. J.J. pressed the attack, trying to follow her, but she suddenly launched a straight kick at him, which nearly hit him in the stomach before he caught himself.

J.J. stepped back so he was just outside her range, before crouching and starting to circle around her, looking for an opening. Kelsie, meanwhile, gave her wings another futile shake, but the ice held. She snorted and suddenly jumped into the air, before extending her leg, trying to land on J.J. However, it was a wildly telegraphed attack, and J.J. easily leaped away from her, doing a small backflip before landing on his feet. They hit the ground at the same time, and J.J. immediately pushed off from the ground, deciding to attack her while she was flat-footed. Kelsie brought her arms up to guard, but J.J. furiously attacked her with swift slashes from both daggers, foregoing defense in exchange for doing more damage. Each attack made Kelsie retreat a step, until she was pressed back against the wall.

When he saw this, J.J. decided to go all-out, and he gave his blue D-former another spin. **"Critical!"** his belt shouted, and a sapphire die engulfed him, spinning for a few moments before shrinking to nothing. His body disappeared as it did, and Kelsie gazed around warily for a moment before bringing her arms up to protect herself, bracing for what was coming next. J.J. squeezed his daggers tightly for a moment before closing in and launching a series of rapid attacks everywhere he could reach, slashing at her arms, her torso, her face, while mentally counting down ten seconds. Kelsie was able to successfully protect her vital areas, however, and most of J.J.'s attacks landed on her arms, especially since she was against the wall, so he couldn't slip around behind her to land attacks on her unprotected back. With three seconds left, he swore under his breath and leaped back, not wanting to give her a chance to counter him. As his body became opaque again, he realized that he had wasted too much energy on a relatively fruitless assault.

By this point, they were both panting heavily, and J.J. was starting to seriously feel the toll the fight was taking on his body. Every muscle ached, and the blows Kelsie had inflicted on him throbbed as they were constricted by his armor. His vision swam for a moment as the adrenaline stopped flowing through his body. Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. Kelsie had to be suffering as much as he was by now. Right?

To check this, he pulled his diary out one more time, once more returning to his base class, and he saw that for all his efforts, Kelsie still had a third of her health left. At the same time, he knew he was almost out of energy – he couldn't keep pressing the attack like he had, or his body would give out. He glanced up and saw that Kelsie was preoccupied with freeing her wings from the ice by bashing them against the wall behind her. He had to end this now. J.J. quickly clicked the pommel his sword, reverting it to a quill, and he asked softly, "How much damage will a Critical Kick do to her?"

The quill pondered his question for a moment, before quickly scribbling across the page, _It will do a significant amount of damage, but it will not be enough to defeat her on its own. Subsequent attacks will be required to claim victory._

"Good," J.J. said, snapping the diary shut and clicking his sword out again as Kelsie finished knocking the ice off of her wings and stretched them. For a moment, he feared she would take off again and retreat, as he knew he wouldn't be able to pursue her. However, her silver eyes still held murderous intent. She clearly wanted to finish this fight. Perhaps she really did see him as a villain standing in her way, he thought wryly. If that was the case, he was happy to fill that role, so long as it kept her on the ground.

"Come on, hero!" J.J. taunted her, putting his hand on his D-former, his left hand making a "come at me" motion. "You've almost got me beat! Show me you have what it takes to take me down!"

Kelsie lowered her head, crouching and preparing to run at him, while J.J. whispered to his diary, "Don't let me down now." With a quick motion, he spun the central D-former, which shouted **"Critical!"** one last time into the night air and surrounded him with a spinning amber die.

For a moment, the two fighters stared at each other as they stood forty feet apart. Then, without any signal, they both sprinted at each other, before leaping into the air at the same time. J.J. began rotating in midair while Kelsie opened her wings and flew at him with her leg extended. At the last moment, J.J. swung his leg around, catching the side of Kelsie's just as his shield dropped. They hovered in midair for a moment, each straining against the other, until J.J.'s momentum let him knock Kelsie's leg aside. As he spun around again, his boot collided with her chest, leaving a glowing amber pane in the center of her body. He kicked off of her chest and somersaulted in midair as Kelsie flew past him. The two landed with their backs to each other, and J.J. pulled his diary out of his belt, watching her health drain as the pane began spreading across her body. However, the health bar stopped just short of dropping completely, which brought a triumphant smile to his face.

Behind him, he could hear Kelsie's hooves as she ran at his unprotected back. Gripping his sword, J.J. suddenly spun around, and when she close enough, he simply extended his sword, and she ran into the point. He loosened his elbow, trying to minimize the damage, as the point just barely broke her skin. Her momentum carried her into his arms, and he caught her, holding her large body up as he grinned to himself. This was the lightest blow he could score on her, and if anything could just barely knock her health to nothing with no overkill, this was it.

As he held her up, however, his grin slowly faded as he felt something sandy on his gloved hands. He looked down, at first in confusion, then shock, and then horror as Kelsie began to crumble and turn to ash in his arms. Her Diemon form wasn't fading away; rather, this was more like when he defeated Shards and they collapsed into piles of dust, leaving nothing behind.

"No… no, no!" J.J. stammered, pushing Kelsie back slightly and looking into her eyes in panic. The silver light left them as her body continued to crumble in his hands. For a moment, she smiled at him, and in that moment, she was herself again.

"J.J….." she whispered. "I'm… sorry…."

"No!" J.J. shouted, pushing her to her feet, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "You're okay, it's over! You're gonna be fine now! Just return to your human form!"

Kelsie continued to smile sadly at him until her body suddenly collapsed all at once, leaving a pile of ash at his feet, on top of which were her glowing silver D-former and a stat page, half-buried in the grey dust.

J.J. fell to his knees in shock, his body like a puppet whose strings had been cut, as he stared mutely at the pile of grey powder he was half-kneeling in. He couldn't say anything. He could barely think. There was nothing but silence for a full minute until a shadow fell over him, and a white gloved hand slid down to tilt his chin up. J.J. was faintly aware of the grinning mask of the Fool as it loomed in his face.

"Ahhh, and there it is," the Fool sighed, letting out a chuckle. "The conclusion of one of the most wonderful tragedies we have ever witnessed. Truly a masterpiece. And lo! We even have a wonderful prize to present our master!" The jester giggled and released J.J.'s head, which snapped limply down again. The jester reached into the pile of ash and plucked up the pulsing silver die, examining it with a soft sigh of appreciation.

"Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful," the Fool said. It looked up at J.J., before nodding. "And it may keep that sheet, as a token of our appreciation. We do hope that this is not its final act, though. Encore! It must perform again for us soon!"

The Fool's cackling laughter echoed off the buildings as it walked off. At last J.J. began to feel something welling up inside of him, tearing through the numb shock that paralyzed the rest of his body. It began at the bottom of his chest and worked its way up his throat. Tilting his head back, he let out a scream of anguish that echoed across the city for several long moments, venting all his despair, rage, and sorrow until his voice gave out and he was left staring silently at the clear night sky.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, J.J. was sitting in the back of an ambulance, staring blankly ahead. Paramedics had already checked him out, and while he was heavily fatigued and had a cracked rib, some major bruises, and deep cuts, they had been treated and he would be fine. However, he felt none of that. He was also vaguely aware that Sergeant Eaton was talking to him, but he didn't hear a word the man was saying.

He kept replaying the fight with Kelsie in his head, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. Was the last attack too deep? Had he hit her when her health hadn't finished draining? Was his Critical Kick too strong? He'd done everything he could to break her of her Diemon form without killing her, yet… the Fool had been right.

Tristan was responding to something Sergeant Eaton was saying, then paused to look at J.J., but J.J. didn't show any indication that he was aware the knight was gazing at him. Every part of him was still numb, like it had been when Kelsie had been injured, but a hundred times worse. In the forest, he had been stunned; now, he was almost catatonic. He didn't even really feel like he was inhabiting his own body. He only felt vaguely real, as if he was floating, while the world kept turning around him. That suited him just fine, as he didn't want to feel anything.

A door slammed somewhere off in the distance, and a piercing shriek cut into his consciousness, snapping him back to reality as he recognized the voice. "Where is he?! I'm going to kill him!" a high-pitched voice screamed. His vision, which had been swimming, refocused on the red-faced, tear-streaked form of Karen trying to claw her way past two officers to get at him.

"You bastard!" she roared at him, her blond hair whipping around her wildly as the officers held her arms, restraining her. "You killed my daughter! I told you to bring her back to me and you killed her! She trusted you! I trusted you!"

J.J. shuddered and looked down at the ground, unable to refute her as she continued to scream at him from thirty feet away. He simply accepted everything she was saying, that he had failed completely, that he should be locked up, punished for his crime….

A strong hand gripped his shoulder, and J.J. slowly looked up at Sergeant Eaton's face. "You're free to go, son," the officer said quietly. "Your friend here will take you back home. Take a couple days to rest and recover."

J.J. nodded silently, and was vaguely aware of Tristan taking his arm and pulling him to his feet. His legs began to lurch forward mechanically, while off to the side, Karen's eyes bulged with rage. "You're letting him go?!" she yelled. "No! Get him back here! Arrest him! He's a murderer!"

J.J. grit his teeth at that last sentence, and he wiped at his wet cheeks, trying to staunch another round of tears. Tristan gripped his arm, guiding him away faster, until the blaring lights of the sirens were far behind them.

"Sergeant Eaton is correct," Tristan asserted quietly. "I will recommend that you spend a few days resting, as you are in no shape to fight. Were you to try now, you would be defeated by any who raised a blade against you."

J.J. looked up slowly, barely able to focus on Tristan's face. After a long moment, he whispered, "I killed her."

"…Yes," Tristan confirmed softly. "It… the first time is the hardest. I know."

J.J. looked down at the ground again, and was aware of his heart pounding. He swayed slightly, and Tristan tightened his grip on his arm to keep him steady. Then he growled, "…Never again."

Tristan tilted his head curiously, before murmuring, "You'll never fight again? That is… your prerogative, but-"

"No," J.J. hissed, fury and self-loathing creeping into his voice. "The opposite. Tonight will never happen again. No one else is going to die so long as I have the power to prevent it."

Tristan gazed at J.J. for several long moments, then replied, "That is a noble endeavor, page. However, you cannot save ev-"

"It's not an endeavor. It's a promise," J.J. interrupted sharply. "And Kelsie was right. I need to be more active. If I'm the only one that can fight, I need to step it up. Starting now." He walked over to his bike and climbed aboard. He paused as he noticed Tristan hesitating, and he snapped irritably, "Are you coming?!"

Tristan hesitated, then slowly climbed on board behind him, murmuring, "Let us return to Susumu's garage first. We should deliver him the Driver so he may work to repair it."

J.J. nodded curtly and turned on the engine. The despair in his eyes had been replaced with a cold, fierce determination. He didn't care how hard he had to push himself – no one else died on his watch. Absently, he ran his hand over his diary, then inhaled sharply through his teeth as he felt his thumb catch on something. Inspecting his hand, he saw that he'd pricked his finger, a drop of blood shining in the light of the street lamp above him. Glancing down, he ran his thumb carefully over his D-former, and after feeling around for a moment, felt a small crack in the jewel.

A brief rush of concern washed over him, but it was quickly frozen by the cold flame burning in the pit of his stomach. "Worry about it later," he growled to himself as he nudged the kickstand up and gunned the engine, racing down the street at top speed, as if trying – and failing – to outrun his greatest failure.


	20. Session 20

**Session 20**

"This is where you've been? You look horrible. When was the last time you slept?" a voice asked from behind the rim of J.J.'s laptop as footsteps crunched on the coarse gravel of Susumu's driveway. J.J peered over the edge of it to scowl at Gwen, who was looking down at him with a worried expression.

"Sleep is for the weak," J.J. replied in a terse growl. He'd meant for it to sound like he was joking, but the response instead came across as snappish. Wincing as he realized that, he quickly returned his gaze to the computer screen, clicking on the news site and refreshing it to check the updated headlines. As usual, nothing had changed.

"Everyone's been worried about you, you know. You haven't been to Gary's tavern in days," Gwen added, taking a seat on a lawn chair next to him and trying to catch his eye.

In response, J.J. grunted non-commitally. "I'm not really feeling up to spending time in the tavern," he replied bluntly. At the moment, he wasn't sure he could handle being around that many people. In fact, he'd gone out of his way to keep to himself as much as possible, except for spending time around Tristan and Susumu. Ever since his last battle, he had taken up a new routine. In the morning, he drove to Susumu's garage, perched on one of the lawn chairs, and pulled out his laptop. He then spent his time browsing obsessively through news articles about anything amiss in the city while simultaneously keeping one eye on the news channel Susumu usually had playing while he worked, in the hopes that he might catch wind of a Diemon attack as early as possible. Susumu's garage was the most convenient place for him to react to Diemon appearances, as it was further downtown than his apartment, and he could also keep up with what Tristan and Susumu were doing as they continued to try and fix the knight's Driver, though they had yet to have any success.

Despite his recent obsession with watching for Diemons, J.J. wasn't neglecting his jobs. If anything, he was working harder than he ever had. He knew that news articles took time to update, so he passed the time by writing a few pages of his novel before flipping back to the Internet and refreshing the news site for updated stories. Over the past week, he had written over fifty pages, far more than he'd ever completed in such a short span of time. When he had a shift at the library, he silently packed up and hurried over to the cathedral, where he spent his time half-buried in his phone, keeping an eye on the news until his battery threatened to run out. Ms. Thatcher praised him for how much work he was getting done – though she did also mention he'd spend less time on his phone – but even though he was working harder than ever, his heart wasn't in it. At the very least, it kept his mind off of… recent events.

Occasionally, Susumu insisted that J.J. get off his computer, at which point he usually demanded a sparring session with Tristan. He had also grown almost fanatical about perfecting his swordsmanship, and lately had adopted a far more aggressive style. This was in the hopes that when a new Diemon showed up, he could dispatch it quickly, before it had a chance to achieve Apotheosis. Tristan had quietly accepted every challenge J.J. requested of him, occasionally offering advice while they trained, but often simply allowing J.J. to rain blows on him while he defended.

J.J.'s patrols, on the other hand, usually left him frustrated. Few Shards were roaming the city in the aftermath of J.J.'s last battle, and there were no signs of new Diemons, which served to fuel J.J.'s paranoia that there were people who were quietly drawing closer to achieving Apotheosis before he had a chance to seal them. This, in turn, lead to him watching the news even more intently, and the cycle steadily grew more vicious.

When the sun finally set, Susumu would kick J.J. out of his garage and insist he go home, but even there J.J. kept the television turned to the news most of the time, staring at the screen well into the night. It was just as well, since he couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing Kelsie staring sadly back at him as her body collapsed. He'd always thought such experiences were authors using hyperbole, but his recent nightmares assured him that such experiences were very much a real phenomenon.

Likewise, he was hardly eating. Nausea was a constant companion, and he could barely keep food down. He often ate small meals that were easy on the stomach, such as soups and granola bars, but even in his fevered state, he knew that he wasn't eating enough. Every time he tried to force more food down, though, he wound up retching, and after a while, he simply gave up and stuck to light meals, even as his stomach continued to growl in protest.

Worst of all, he knew this pattern was taking a toll on him, physically and mentally. J.J. glanced over his shoulder at his reflection in a polished hubcap near Susumu's garage door, and he grimaced at what he saw. His long blond hair was roughly tied behind him in a ragged ponytail, with stray strands of oily hair sticking out all over the place, giving him a wild, disheveled look that was made worse by his red eyes and the deep bags under them. His chin and cheeks were likewise covered in short, golden stubble, a stark contrast to his usually clean-shaven face. His clothing was wrinkled, as if he'd fallen asleep in it more than once, and his hands were constantly shaking slightly from a combination of fatigue and adrenaline. He didn't think he'd ever been in such poor shape, even when he'd first come to Marville. He shook that thought off, though, and returned his attention to his laptop.

"Look, I'm just worried about you, J.J.," Gwen told him softly, trying to lean over the laptop to catch his attention. J.J. petulantly hunched over more, as if trying to block her out of his vision. "If you would just talk to me-"

"I told you what happened with Kelsie, Gwen," J.J. interrupted her, his tone short and clipped. "That's what's been eating at me, and I'm dealing with it. There's nothing more that needs to be said."

"What about Karen? Is she still making things worse?" Gwen asked.

J.J. scoffed, pausing to look up at the sky and roll his eyes. In the aftermath of the battle, Kelsie's mother had tried her hardest to prosecute J.J., hoping to get him arrested for murder or manslaughter. However, the city council was aware of the Diemon threats and his role in fighting them, and they'd taken preemptive measures to legally protect him in case someone was accidentally killed. Two weeks before his fight with Kelsie, they'd quietly passed a measure protecting J.J. from the repercussions of accidental deaths during a monster battle, so long as it could be proven that they were indeed accidental. The reasoning was that as long as he was working to protect people, his actions fell under the Good Samaritan laws, and he couldn't be reasonably prosecuted for essentially fighting a war and working to protect others, so long as he didn't use his powers to attack civilians. Karen, naturally, had shrieked that her daughter _was_ an innocent civilian, but as Kelsie had been a Diemon at the time, the case was thrown out. In response, Karen's antipathy towards J.J. had intensified to a burning hatred, especially since she couldn't legally do anything to him.

Not that J.J. blamed her for her hatred of him, he mused sadly. If he was being honest, he'd wished he'd received some sort of punishment for his hand in Kelsie's death. In a way, getting off scot-free for killing someone, even by accident, hurt him even more than if he'd been thrown behind bars.

"Look, Gwen," J.J. sighed, finally looking up from his laptop. "I appreciate your concern," he said, though his voice held no actual gratitude. "But right now, I really just want to be left alone."

Gwen gazed at him silently, then rounded on Susumu and Tristan, snarling at them. "And you two are just letting him do this to himself?!" she suddenly snapped at the two men, who glanced up at her from the workbench.

"Hey, he's just taking up a lawn chair, and I have four more," Susumu shrugged. "He's not bothering anyone, he's not costing me money, and he's over eighteen, so I don't have any reason to kick him out until it's closing time."

"And you?" Gwen asked, narrowing her eyes at Tristan. "You're still sparring with him, right? Even though he's exhausted? How the hell is that responsible?"

Tristan folded his arms over his chest, glancing over at J.J. with a sympathetic look. "All warriors have their own ways of combating grief, and he is not the first to react in this way. I am merely… how did you put it, Susumu? 'Letting him work it out of his system?'"

"And what if he's so worn out that he can't protect the city?" Gwen pointed out, turning to glare at J.J. "How're you supposed to help anyone if you wind up collapsing in the middle of a fight?"

"I'll be fine," J.J. retorted shortly, once again refreshing the news site and scowling as nothing new came up.

Gwen stared at him for several long moments before sighing and throwing her hands up in exasperation. Still wearing a sour expression, she walked into the garage to peer over Susumu's shoulder as he prodded Tristan's driver with a screwdriver. "So how's that coming along?" she asked, her tone still somewhat sulky.

"Badly," Susumu replied, shaking his head as he set down the screwdriver and turned to face her. "Mostly because I can't figure out why it's not working. Now, admittedly I'm not an alchemist, but with Tristan's help translating, I've followed every instruction in his father's notes to the letter. By all rights, it should be working. When we try to activate it, though…." He pressed the bull icon on the shield, and while it let out a roaring bovine bellow, nothing else happened.

"Any ideas?" Gwen frowned.

"The only thing I can think of is that we're not providing enough power," Susumu replied, shaking his head. "It's almost like the Driver is in some sort of safe mode, like a computer – it has enough energy to function at a low level, but not to work properly."

"So then how do you provide it with more power?" Gwen asked. Her eyes fell on J.J., and added, "What about a D-former?"

"We tried that already," J.J. called over his shoulder. "I lent Susumu one of my own D-formers, but nothing happened."

"Maybe it's because those ones are already bound to you," Gwen suggested. "What about if Tristan had his own D-former?"

"Yeah, let's just go right up to the Black Seraph and ask him if he'd like to make Tristan into a Diemon," J.J. snorted, hitting the refresh button on his computer again.

"There's always the white angel you ran into," Gwen pointed out, scowling at J.J. for scoffing at her.

"I have no desire to request aid from either of Quintus' foul creations," Tristan said emphatically. "Although the page has yet to suffer any sort of corrupting influence from his own jewel, I do not wish to tempt fate by emulating him. Were the white angel to appear before me with such an offer, I would run her through before she had the chance to propose such an offer."

"You… really hate D-formers, don't you?" Gwen asked softly.

"They caused the destruction of my homeland," Tristan said, looking away. "As did Quintus' Seraphs. I have more than enough reason to harbor hatred for them, and to justify my reluctance to use anything they offer."

"Besides, there's no guarantee that a D-former is the answer to this problem," Susumu added. "If all that was needed was a D-former's energy, when Kelsie tried to transform-"

Susumu stopped mid-sentence as J.J. snapped his head around, glaring furiously at the mechanic. Susumu held up his hand to calm the writer, and J.J. slowly turned back to his computer, swallowing hard as he did.

"In any case," Susumu continued, "we'll just have to keep trying to find another power source. Maybe the answer is in another one of the Almencian ruins beneath the city. I dunno."

"Ah-hah!" J.J. crowed, grinning triumphantly at his computer. The other three turned to stare at him in surprise.

"What, did you come up with a solution?" Gwen asked dubiously.

"No, not that," J.J. said dismissively, turning his computer around to the latest computer headline. "Look at this! Reports of a Diemon attacking people in the financial district!" He looked up at the three, grinning maniacally.

Gwen stared at him somberly for several moments before asking him slowly, "Are you seriously happy that people are being attacked by a feral monster?"

J.J.'s smile faded, replaced by a horrified expression. "Wha… no, of course not!" he stammered, realizing that was how his enthusiasm could have been interpreted.

"Then what're you so happy about?" Gwen asked him, narrowing her eyes.

"I… ah…." J.J. faltered, looking away. "I mean… it's… protecting people," he said finally, before clearing his throat. "I'm just glad that I caught this early enough that I can hurry and save someone from being consumed by a D-former. That's all."

Gwen continued to stare at J.J., before saying softly, "Well… I suppose that makes sense." She sighed as J.J. closed his laptop and pushed himself up, heading over to his bike. "But are you sure you're in the shape to be doing this? I told you before, you look completely exhausted."

"That doesn't matter. I _have_ to be ready to do this," J.J. replied firmly. Without waiting for a reply, he pushed himself up and jogged over to his motorcycle.

Gwen bit her lower lip, looking away. "Just… please be careful." She glanced over to Susumu and Tristan, pinning the latter with a fierce stare. "Go with him, please?"

"I intended to, Lady Marks," Tristan replied, having already grabbed the spare motorcycle helmet. J.J. tapped his fingers impatiently against the handlebars as the knight sidled onto the bike behind him. Gwen walked over to the pair, taking J.J.'s face in her hands.

"Please… be careful," she said softly. J.J. felt a pang run through his heart, and he managed a slight smile at her.

"I always am," he assured her, reaching up and squeezing her hand. In that moment, he felt a rush of gratitude towards her, the first positive emotion he'd felt in days. It made him want to stay with her, to forget about the Diemon attack, or at least wait a little longer, just to enjoy the feeling a bit more. Before he lost his resolve, he quickly let go of her hand and started up the engine. He tossed her a wave as he turned the bike around and drove down Susmu's gravel driveway before turning sharply to the left and speeding down the road.

"Have you any inkling of the nature of this foe?" Tristan shouted at J.J. over the roar of the bike.

"No idea," J.J. yelled back, weaving impatiently in and out of traffic. He was cutting his turns closer than he usually did, and startled drivers blared their horns at him. J.J. ignored them completely. "I didn't look that up. I just saw the word 'Diemon.'"

"That is… unusual for you, page," Tristan commented cautiously. "You do not usually engage an opponent when you have the opportunity to gather more information about them."

"Yeah, well, I can't afford to waste time anymore," J.J. snapped. "Get in, beat the Diemon, seal his powers, wait for the next one. That's what I'm gonna do."

"Assuming that you possess sufficient ability to do so," Tristan cautioned him.

"Better to do it quickly before they have the chance to achieve Apo-" J.J. felt his throat tighten at the mention of that word. Shaking his head, he instead said, "Better to bring them down before they can get used to their powers."

"I suppose… there is an element of truth to that," Tristan said reluctantly. He then tightened his grip around J.J.'s waist as J.J. swerved around a car that was going half his speed. "But while time is of the essence, perhaps we should endeavor not to kill ourselves before we arrive at our destination?!" he cried.

"Stop whining. You're fine," J.J. said curtly, turning down a narrow road just as the light turned red.

Tristan's fingers tightened around J.J.'s waist as he drove them to an outdoor mall, where people were already panicking and running for their cars. Shards were chasing them away from the figure causing the panic, who was standing laughing in the center of the plaza.

From a distance, J.J. thought that the Diemon looked like a black feather duster with ursine claws and a wickedly curved beak. It stood a good seven feet tall, and its body seemed almost half as wide between the thick muscles and long, greasy black feathers that made up its body. Red eyes swept the area, and while it did occasionally claw at a random passerby, the Diemon wasn't chasing anyone. When the area was clear, the monster picked up a concrete planter, lifted it over its head, and threw it through a plate glass window before cackling with glee.

"This is amazing!" crowed a squawking male voice. "I wish that Black Seraph guy had given me this jewel sooner!"

J.J. snarled as he stepped off his bike, roughly yanking his diary out of his jeans. "Oh, so you're having fun, are you?" he growled softly.

"Perhaps there is some reason behind his destructive tendencies?" Tristan suggested. "For instance, like young Ryan, perhaps he was antagonized, or-"

"I really don't care," J.J. interrupted. He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, then he held his diary up to his left cheek and flipped it open to his stats page. "Henshin!" he called out, and his Driver appeared around his waist, at which point he snapped the book shut and slotted it into the central belt buckle, before giving the amber die in the center of the cover a spin.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** the Driver shouted, and an amber crystal began spinning around J.J. rapidly as he was enveloped in his brown leather armor. Before the spinning had even stopped, he was already running towards the Diemon, and when he was a few feet away, he snapped his fingers. His quill flew out of his diary and fluttered into his hand, which he snapped out into its sword form.

The Diemon turned to see J.J. charging at him, and a squawking laugh erupted from his twisted beak. "Ah! I was wondering if you'd show-!"

Before he even had a chance to finish his sentence, J.J. had already ducked in, thrusting forward with a savage piercing attack aimed at the Diemon's chest. The blade tore past his feathers and into his skin, emitting a shower of sparks as the Diemon cried out in pain, staggering backwards.

"Wh… wait!" the monster cried, holding out one clawed paw. "Let me at least-!"

J.J. ignored the protest, continuing to press the attack with three vicious slashes at the monster's chest. Unfortunately, with the short reach of his sword, he kept swiping feathers rather than doing any damage. By the third swing, the Diemon had gotten the hint that J.J. wasn't going to listen, and instead took a swipe of his own. J.J. drew his blade back and caught the blow on the edge, inflicting a hit on the beast's paw, but the sheer force of the attack knocked J.J. through another large window. Glass shattered around him, and he was left stunned as he hit the ground. Thankfully, none of the pieces of glass pierced his armor.

J.J. grunted and pushed himself to his feet as the Diemon charged in after him. With a growl, he stepped in, meeting the Diemon's charge and holding his sword out to plunge it into the monster's chest. Because it was in mid-charge, the beast didn't have time to react, and it impaled itself to the hilt of the short blade. However, because of its enraged state, it also didn't feel the pain of J.J.'s sword embedding itself in its chest, and instead continued to attack despite the damage it was taking.

J.J. had been expecting another swipe of its claws, and prepared to duck, but instead the monster's long, powerful arms surrounded him. Before he could brace himself, the grip around him tightened, and the Diemon wrapped him in a suffocating bear hug. J.J. felt the air escape his lungs, and he gasped pitifully in pain as the monster began to crush him against its powerful chest. He couldn't do anything but kick its leg futilely, since his arms were pinned. Thankfully, however, he'd kept his grip on his sword, and when he realized this, he mustered as much strength as he could and ruthlessly twisted the blade.

While locked in the deadly embrace, J.J. and the Diemon locked eyes, and each pressed the other harder, with the monstrous beast squeezing J.J. tighter while he twisted the blade more sharply. It became a contest of strength and will, each waiting to see who would break first. Thankfully for J.J., the Diemon finally let out a roar and released him. J.J. dropped to the ground, coughing, as he yanked the blade out of the creature's chest.

Despite the minor victory, J.J. knew it was Pyrrhic. He didn't need to check his diary to know that exchange had cost him quite a bit of health; his ragged coughing as he staggered away was testament enough to how much damage he'd taken. Thankfully, the Diemon was also giving him a slight respite, as it was doubled over and clutching its own sternum where J.J.'s sword had pierced it.

During the lull in combat, Tristan called out, "Page! The Shards are still attacking the citizens! Turn your attention to them, before more people are injured!"

J.J. hesitated, gritting his teeth as he glanced back at the Diemon. This was a good opportunity to press the attack, and if he could seal the Diemon quickly, there was a chance the Shards would lose interest in the area….

"Page! Have you taken leave of your senses?! I demand your assistance, immediately!" Tristan roared when he saw J.J. pause. J.J. growled in annoyance and put his hand on his blue die. Frustrating as it was, even in his rush to resolve this fight quickly, he knew that saving the civilians was his priority.

 **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his Driver shouted as he gave the blue die a spin, and he was enveloped in a sapphire die that began spinning around him rapidly as a saxophone played, and his suit was transformed into a navy blue jacket and scarf combination, while his sword split into a pair of long daggers. Gripping the blades and gritting his teeth in annoyance, he jumped through the broken window and sprinted towards the Shards that were still chasing the civilians in the area.

As he leapt through the glass, he ran past Tristan and shouted at him, "Get anyone that's still here out of the area!" Tristan nodded once and ran in the other direction and out of sight while J.J. continued to run towards the Shards.

With their attention diverted by the people in the area, J.J. was able to make full use of Thief Class's speed without worrying about defense. He began dashing around the plaza, driving his daggers into the unprotected spines of the first two Shards he came across. When a third caught on that they were being attacked, it swung a clawed hand at him, but J.J. ducked under the blow and drove both blades into its stomach, before ruthlessly slashing outwards to both sides, essentially gutting the Shard, and it collapsed in a heap of ash. J.J. felt his stomach clench as he saw the pile of dust, and he shook his head quickly, forcing himself to put it out of his mind and concentrate on the fight.

The final two Shards had finally turned and were prepared to defend themselves, but J.J. had no interest in giving them that chance. He gave his blue D-former another spin, and a resounding cry of **"Critical!"** filled the air. The blue die once again covered him, and J.J.'s body faded from view as he sprinted past the Shards. With either hand, he drove his daggers into their spines, twisting the blades and dropping them to the ground, where they crumbled into pieces of gravel. J.J. ignored this, instead running at full speed towards the Diemon, who had finally recovered enough to stand up straight and had left the building before staggering up a quartet of stairs while attempting to escape. J.J. was mentally counting down the seconds in his head, and when he got to one, he put his hand on his red D-former.

He reappeared less than a foot from the Diemon, who let out a startled squawk as J.J. materialized in front of him. J.J. spun the scarlet D-former, and his Driver shouted, **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** A ruby die surrounded him, and when it did, the crystal it projected knocked the Diemon backward. War drums played as J.J.'s blue outfit was replaced by red lamellar armor, and as the transformation completed, he hefted his warhammer over his shoulder.

The Diemon had been knocked flat on its back from the D-former shield, and as it began pushing itself up, J.J. gave the red D-former another spin. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and a scarlet die once again surrounded him before coalescing on the end of his hammer, making it glow with a bloody red light.

"Wait… hang on!" the Diemon shouted, holding up its clawed hands. "Just… hear me out!"

"I don't have the time," J.J. replied coldly, lifting his hammer over his head. "We can chat after you're human again."

J.J. clenched his teeth and brought the hammer down as hard as he could. Before he could land the finishing blow, however, a crimson figure darted around from behind the corner of the building and caught J.J.'s blade with the flat of a five-foot long greatsword. J.J. staggered forward slightly as his momentum was interrupted, and before he could react, the figure slid the blade up the length of his hammer and delivered a powerful slicing attack into J.J.'s chest. J.J. gasped in pain as his armor barely stopped the attack, but it still bounced off of his ribs, sending him careening backwards. He doubled over, clutching his chest as he checked himself quickly. Though he hadn't suffered more than a major bruise, he was nevertheless shaken by the attack. Panting, he slowly looked up at his assailant, who stood over him a few feet away.

The figure was roughly the same height as J.J., but his build was more solid. He was wearing armor similar to J.J.'s Warrior armor, but with marked differences. His cuirass was comprised of reflective dark red scales, with smaller scales running down his arms, ending in black gloves backed by red semicircular plates. Black leather pants covered his pelvis and thighs, while red greaves etched with a draconic design protected his kneecaps and shins, and heavy metallic boots encased his feet. He wore a Corinthian-style helmet that lacked a plume, and the T-shaped center of his helmet was stylized to look like a gleaming silver sword pointed downwards, with the crossguard designed to resemble a pair of garnet-colored dragon wings, providing eye slits for him to look through. The helmet itself was dark red as well, and the ears were swept back and stylized to resemble another pair of draconic wings. He rested his greatsword over his shoulder, and now that it was no longer carving its way into his chest, J.J. could admire the way the blade was crafted to resemble a roaring flame, while the dark red hilt was, once again, designed to look like a dragon in flight, with its mouth open to expel the fiery blade and its outstretched wings serving as the crossguard.

What drew J.J.'s attention the most, however, was the belt strapped around the figure's middle. The buckle in particular caught his eye – a sword pointing down, with draconic wings forming the crossguard and a vermillion D-former set in the pommel. He immediately recognized it as another Fantasy Driver – in fact, it was the same one that he had seen in the arena when he had fought Justin. If that was the case, he realized, then this was the same person that had enough power to destroy a Diemon that had achieved Apotheosis in just a few hits. But if that was the case, why had this knight helped him in the arena, if he was attacking him now?

His unspoken question was answered as the figure pinned J.J. with a glare and spoke in that same gruff, deep tone that he'd heard in the arena. "I have no reason to fight you so long as you do not oppose me, peasant," he said. "However, if you do not immediately retreat, I shall turn my blade on you and dispatch you without hesitation. This is your only warning."

J.J. slowly straightened up, giving his sword a little twirl to steady his nerves as he met the figure's gaze. "Is there a reason you stopped me?" he asked. "I remember you, you know. Before, you didn't have a problem taking out Justin."

The figure tilted his head, as if confused, before nodding once. "Ah, yes, you do appear familiar. You were in the training grounds, were you not? I have a vested interest in seeing this man's jewel achieve completion, and I will not abide any interference. I bear you no grudge, but neither shall I permit you to interfere with this creature until it achieves Apotheosis."

J.J.'s eyes widened, and then he scowled behind his mask. "So that's why you stepped in before?" he growled. "Justin had already reached Apotheosis, so you figured you'd take the gem. You weren't saving me – that was just incidental."

"I am pleased that you have reached that conclusion on your own, so I needn't explain it to you," the figure replied flatly. "Now, depart."

"Yeah, that's not happening," J.J. said, standing up straight and pointing his finger at the Diemon, who was starting to edge away from the two. "I appreciate you saving me earlier – intentional or not – but I'm not going to let-"

Before J.J. could finish his sentence, the knight suddenly charged him, swinging his greatsword in a wide arc. J.J. quickly brought his hammer up to block the blow, and he managed to catch the blade on the handle of his weapon, but the sheer force of the attack sent J.J. sliding backwards. As he skidded to a halt, his hammer continued to shiver in his hands, which were half-numb from the force of the attack.

The knight continued to press his attack, raising his sword above his head and cleaving it down towards J.J.'s body. J.J. couldn't block in time, so he flinched out of the way, but his opponent still managed to score a glancing blow on his shoulder. He let out a cry of pain as he fell to one knee, clutching his shoulder with one hand while his hammer dropped limply to his side.

"Weak," the knight said in that same gruff tone. Even though his face was obscured by his helmet, J.J. could feel the look of disappointment he was being pinned with. "You lay claim to Devon's diary, yet this is all you can accomplish as a warrior? Your death will be the only redemption for the shame you have stained Devon's armor with. Remain still – I shall at least grant you a swift, clean death. It is more than a peasant like you deserves."

J.J. grit his teeth as he looked up at the armored figure standing over him. If it wasn't such a dire situation, he might have been amused by the irony of how quickly he'd gone from standing in that position over a Diemon to being the one about to be subjected to a coup-de-grace. A bitter laugh left his lips.

"Sure, you can try to kill me," J.J. said in a low voice as he put one hand on his D-former. "But not until I've sealed that idiot behind you who thinks making a deal with a fallen angel is the answer to whatever problems he's going through. Until that's done, I've got too much at stake to just roll over and die."

J.J.'s gloved hand gave his blue D-former a spin, and he was enveloped in a sapphire die, which spun around him as his Driver shouted, **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** and a saxophone blared. The crimson knight took a step back as J.J. stood up, and his red armor split open into a jacket before being dyed navy blue while his scarf threaded itself around his neck. His hammer shrank and split as well, until he was left gripping his twin daggers.

As the spinning of the die stopped, J.J. leaped backwards, trying to put some distance between him and the draconic knight. He held his daggers in front of him defensively, while quickly trying to work out his plan of attack. He was banking on his improved speed, which he figured was going to be his edge against the heavy armor the knight was clanking around in. Even then, he didn't necessarily have to fight, he reasoned. All he had to do was slip around his opponent with his Sneak Attack Critical, deliver a few blows hard enough to drop the Diemon, and escape. Then he could regroup and figure out how to deal with the knight.

His enemy, however, seemed to guess J.J.'s plan, and he subtly shifted to put himself between J.J. and the Diemon. The feathered beast looked down at the knight querulously, but didn't say anything as the knight brought his greatsword up over his head in a defensive stance, as if daring J.J. to try and slip past him.

Before either of them could move, however, footsteps echoed across the plaza, and Tristan came running into view. J.J. glanced over his shoulder in time to see Tristan's eyes widen in recognition, before Tristan shouted, "Sir Agnar!"

J.J. was so shocked by that name that he dropped his fighting stance and looked back and forth between the two. This was Tristan's mentor? The best warrior in Almencia? Wasn't he dead?

Likewise, the draconic knight slowly straightened up, lowering his sword as he met Tristan's gaze.

"Sir Tristan?" the knight replied hesitantly. "I… had heard that you had been revived. I have been hoping to encounter you, my friend."

"Clearly, you have not been searching particularly diligently," Tristan shot back accusingly. "It is not as if I have attempted to conceal my presence."

"I have… also had other matters to attend to," the knight replied regretfully. "It is good to see you again, though."

"My own feelings remain in question. I request a truce. Lower your blade please, Sir Agnar," Tristan implored him. "We… have much to discuss, I feel."

"I shall not," Agnar replied, eyeing J.J. warily. "So long as that one continues to harry my ward, I shall remain on guard."

Tristan glanced at J.J., who was glaring past Agnar at the Diemon. The monster, for his part, was looking completely baffled by everything going on.

"Page," Tristan said softly, "Will you abide by a truce? Will you cease your pursuit of this Diemon for a short while?"

"I…!" J.J. hesitated. On the one hand, he was sympathetic to Tristan's desire to speak with Sir Agnar. For weeks, Tristan had been completely alone in a world that was totally alien to him. Everyone and everything he knew had been so erased from memory that they weren't even ancient history – they were myth. Even if he'd been from another European nation, he might have found solace in the way his descendants had developed over a thousand years; Tristan didn't even have that much. Despite that, for the most part, Tristan had adapted well to the modern age, but there must have been times when he felt homesick, especially since there were hardly any links to his past. But if this was truly Agnar, someone Tristan had been especially close with… J.J. couldn't even imagine the emotions Tristan was experiencing. Plus, it wasn't as if J.J. wasn't curious as well. He also wanted answers.

On the other hand, though, he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of letting a Diemon go, especially after what had happened to Kelsie. How long did this Diemon have before it achieved Apotheosis? What would it do in the meantime? Would it hurt more people? Could he, in good conscience, allow it to run free when he had a chance to stop it here and now? And if he did let it go, he felt as if he was betraying his new resolve to actively try and prevent any more Diemons from doing damage in the city or succumbing to Apotheosis. His first Diemon since Kelsie's… accident, and he was already willing to break that promise?

J.J. continued to hesitate, the gears in his mind turning as he tried to find a middle ground. Could he slip past Agnar while his guard was down? Maybe he could land a few lucky strikes and break the Diemon out of its monster form before Agnar could react. But would that provoke the knight? Would he refuse to speak with Tristan as a result? Could J.J. really do that to Tristan?

"Page!" Tristan said sharply, snapping J.J. out of his thoughts. J.J. paused for a moment longer, still glaring at the Diemon, before letting out a growl of frustration and relaxing his stance, folding his arms over his chest as he lifted his diary out of his belt and reverted to Adventurer Class.

"Fine," J.J. snarled sharply. "But I'm tracking you," he added, holding up the diary for the Diemon to see. "If you transform again, I'm coming after you."

The Diemon hesitated, glancing at Agnar, who simply nodded. The Diemon's beak split into a wide grin, and it hurried off before J.J. could get a look at its human form. Tristan came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank y-" Tristan began but J.J shrugged his hand off.

"Don't," J.J. sighed, biting back another growl. "Just hurry up and ask your questions."

Tristan gazed at J.J. for a moment, then nodded, walking forward so that he was within a few feet of Agnar, who rested the tip of his sword on the ground and put both hands on the pommel. "Sir Agnar… I was convinced that you had been slain," Tristan said slowly.

"Indeed? When?" Agnar asked.

"The Battle of the Dorian Cliffs," Tristan prompted him. "When we engaged the Gorgon of Elimber?"

"Ah, the witch," Agnar nodded once. "I assumed that was the incident to which you were referring. Tell me, what was your perspective of the battle?

"When we fought the Gorgon, we were backed to the very edge of the cliffs," Tristan recalled, folding his arms over his chest. "I remember you were struck by the monster's gaze and your body was encased in stone, and then she knocked you into the sea. I was then forced to retreat, and while I searched for your body in the aftermath, I was unable retrieve it. However, because you were turned to stone and sent to the bottom of the ocean… what hope was there that you yet lived? Even were you to recover from your immobilized state, you would have surely drowned."

"Indeed," Agnar agreed, tilting his head up as he looked up at the sky. "If that is what you witnessed, then you were not incorrect in assuming that I may well have perished. While I was petrified, I had no notion of time. I was not merely asleep – it was as if no time at all had passed. One moment I was staring into the eyes of the Gorgon, and in the next, I awoke on a bed in the care of the followers of the Black Seraph."

Agnar looked down slowly, gazing at Tristan, his expression unreadable under his helmet. "I was told by my captors that weeks had passed since our battle with the Gorgon. I had been found by one of the Seraph's monstrous minions that had underwater abilities – one based off a kraken, if I recall – and they had retrieved my body and found a way to revive me with Lord Quintus' alchemy. I was informed that you had already defeated the Black Seraph. However, I was told that his followers' wishes had revived him. It was in that moment that I realized that we had utterly failed our country. I tore myself from the bed and fled, leaving those that had rescued me behind.

"For weeks, I wandered the island, constantly fighting the feral Shards and monsters that accosted me. Each time I was forced to defend myself, I was reminded that I was slaying one of the very citizens that I had sworn to protect. I was forced to cut down former friends, even members of my family. It was… agonizing."

J.J. glanced away, swallowing a knot in his throat as his mind flashed to Kelsie. "Yeah… yeah, I know what you mean," he said softly. Beside him, Tristan nodded solemnly.

Agnar folded his arms across his chest, looking up at the sky. "After three weeks of aimlessly traveling the island, I was defeated by one of the Black Seraph's minions, captured, and brought before the Black Seraph himself. He was nothing like when we last saw him, however," Agnar added, glancing over at Tristan. "It seems you did indeed manage to defeat him, as he was severely weakened. He was gaunt, exhausted, and seemed barely able to keep himself sitting upright upon his throne. Nevertheless, his voice still held that same unmistakable combination of charm and authority that I am sure you recall, Sir Tristan.

"He informed me that Almencia was doomed. The citizens had long since succumbed to the power of his jewels, and few yet lived. In a matter of days, were I to continue as I had been, I would be among the last inhabitants of a dead island that would lie forgotten forever. But then, he presented a glimmer of hope. He informed me that he had a way to restore Almencia, and that he required my help to achieve that goal."

J.J. and Tristan traded looks, before they turned back to Agnar, with Tristan wearing a hurt expression. "And you believed him?" Tristan asked incredulously.

"Of course not. Do you think me a fool?" Agnar snapped. "I wished to cut him down right there, but I had been disarmed and fettered, and I was forced to listen to him. The Seraph went on to explain that while the state of Almencia was indeed his fault, he never wished for its destruction, and he wished to atone, as he claimed he was merely another servant of the country, as we were. He merely wished for the opportunity to undo his mistake and set the country upon its proper path once more. He also required a champion to aid him. You, Tristan, were in stasis and hidden from him, so he wished for me to serve as his champion in your place."

"You consented?" Tristan asked, frowning.

"It required days of convincing. Each day he brought me before him to speak with him, and each day I disregarded all he said," Agnar explained. "However, as the days passed and the island fell deeper into ruin, I fell deeper into despair. I was imprisoned in one of the towers of the keep, and from that position, I was given a clear view of Almencia's collapse. My homeland was crumbling around me, and there was naught I could do to prevent it. Even were I to take up arms, I would only hasten its demise. Thus, reluctantly, I began to listen to his plan to restore our country."

"Wait, if the Black Seraph just wanted to restore Almencia, why didn't he just ask for help? Then _or_ now?" J.J. pointed out. "I mean, saving a country is a noble goal, and most people would be willing to help. Why not parley with other countries? Try to find refuge with them? Hell, it looked kinda like other Almencian families had that in mind, like when the Marks family built Marville. If he was trying to reconstruct Almencia, why go through the trouble of attacking people like he has been? Why turn them into Diemons?"

Agnar glared at J.J. before shaking his head. "You misunderstand, peasant. Merely rebuilding in another nation is not our goal. A new Almencian homeland elsewhere would be a facsimile of the glory that was our island. No, what the Black Seraph intends is to physically recreate Almencia as it was, to revive all who were slain and undo everything that led to its ruin."

Tristan's eyes widened, and he slowly nodded. "Ah… using an alchemical ritual of the same sort as what Lord Quintus was once capable of, yes? And to do that, he needs D-formers, does he not?"

"If you are referring to the Seraph's jewels, then you are correct. While he wished to immediately commence rebuilding, he informed me that he lacked the power to do so, and would require time to recover – as long as a millennium, perhaps. Thus, he required that I be placed in stasis as you were, Tristan, so that when the time came to enact his plan to restore Almencia, I would be available to assist him."

"Which is why you also had not sought me out, despite claiming that you wished to?" Tristan asked.

"Quite. While I was aware you were active, my duties were my priority," Agnar said, a note of regret in his voice. "It is a shame our paths did not cross sooner, but the Seraph wished for me to explore the Almencian ruins that run beneath this city, in the hopes that there might be others who were placed in stasis as well, as you encountered in the arena. If they survived the destruction of Almencia, they might have had jewels as well."

"The Black Seraph didn't build them?" J.J. asked, tilting his head. "Then who placed you two down there?"

"I do not know," Agnar admitted. "Nor did the Black Seraph elaborate."

"Alright… but that still begs the question about why you can't just resettle in a new homeland. Why not just start a life here?" J.J. repeated. "Clearly someone else had that in mind, since it looks like someone up and excavated entire pieces of Almencia and brought them here. You have what you wanted – a chance to start over. Why're you still following the Seraph?"

Agnar pinned J.J. with a stare, before replying softly, "You said before that you understood the pain of cutting down someone close to you, correct? How many times were you forced to do so? Once, from the look of it. I see it in the way you carry yourself – you only recently stained your hands for the first time. I was forced to slay dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of the very people I was sworn to protect. Every one left a wound in my very soul. Take that pain you feel, boy, and increase it a thousand-fold. Now, do you truly think that merely constructing a few buildings in Almencian style would be enough to ease that pain? No, the only way I can truly redeem myself is by giving those I slew a second chance at life. That is the only way I can atone for my sins."

"By forcing more people to become Diemons?" J.J. shot back, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah, no, that's a great way to redeem yourself – double down on your mistakes by turning even more people into monsters! Isn't part of your knightly oath to protect people?"

"My oath, peasant, is to my king and country," Agnar spat at him. He held his arm out, sweeping it around the area. "These are not my people. I have no connection to them. If you spied a lake where two men were drowning, one your brother and one whom you had never met, who would you save? You would always save your brother over the stranger."

J.J. felt his heart clench as he once again thought about Kelsie, and he lowered his head. A moment later, however, he realized the flaw in that line of thinking, and he looked up again, staring at Agnar's visor, his eyes narrowed behind his. "That's not what this is, though," he shot back. "This isn't about saving one person or the other, this is sacrificing someone to save someone else. And very few people would be completely okay with the fact that someone else had to be murdered so they could live."

"I must concur," Tristan interjected. "I too mourn the loss of our homeland, Sir Agnar, but your actions are repugnant. I cannot bring myself to agree with your decision to ally with the one who destroyed Almencia simply because he claimed he wishes to undo his mistake."

"His remorse seemed genuine," Agnar replied. "And he is not the only one who wishes to undo the tragedy that befell our homeland. Surely you too wish to see Almencia restored."

"It would be a joyous day, were it possible, but I cannot condone the measures you have taken. Nevertheless," Tristan added, shooting a sidelong glance at J.J., "I also understand how your grief and guilt have driven you to commit actions you would not normally otherwise. Those suffering under the burdens of such emotions do not always act rationally. Would you not concur, page?"

J.J. shot a glare at Tristan and opened his mouth to retort, but then slowly closed it, realizing that he didn't have an answer. Especially given the way he'd been acting over the past few days. "Yeah… I do get that much at least," he muttered reluctantly, trying to keep the thought of Kelsie from resurfacing.

Tristan smiled tightly at him before turning his attention back to Agnar. "There is one thing, though, that I wish for you to explain to me, Sir Agnar. You are currently clad in your armor, yet mine appears to have ceased functioning in the past thousand years. Would you indulge me by explaining how you managed to repair your Driver?"

Agnar blinked at the unfamiliar term, but then looked down at his belt and nodded in understanding. "Ah, of course," he said. "My armor was indeed in poor shape upon reawakening. Although I was placed in stasis while wearing it, shortly after I was revived, my own Driver – as you called it – ceased to function. I discussed it with the Black Seraph, and we experimented for days before he provided me the means to once more don my armor." With that, he tapped the vermillion D-former lodged in the pommel of his sword-shaped belt buckle.

Tristan narrowed his eyes, a flicker of anger in them as he folded his arms across his chest. "You agreed to use one of those thrice-damned jewels that destroyed our island?!" he hissed furiously.

"Quite. In fact, the Seraph realized the solution thanks to your apprentice," Agnar said, nodding to J.J. "Our Drivers were made using the same alchemical techniques that created the Seraph's jewels; otherwise, they would be ineffective in combating his monsters. Thus, it stood to reason that the jewels and the Drivers would be compatible. In fact, once the Black Seraph presented me with my own jewel, my Driver automatically rearranged itself to accept it as a new source of energy. Truly, Lord Quintus' machines are wonders that border on the divine realm."

"But… what of the corruption?" Tristan asked slowly.

"I have remained in complete control of myself despite extended usage of the jewel," Agnar shrugged.

"Indeed. Your greatest desire is to restore Almencia, is it not? You see yourself as our island's savior?" Tristan pointed out.

"I do," Agnar agreed.

"To the point where you're willing to consider utilizing any measure to see your goal through to the end," Tristan pointed out. "Does that not sound like corruption to you?"

"Your concerns are understandable, but you are fretting over nothing," Agnar replied, waving Tristan's comment away. "In fact, I have something for you as well, which I had intended to give to you when we had the chance to reunite."

Agnar reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a pair of small objects. He walked over to Tristan, and J.J. craned his neck to see what he was doing. Tristan held out his hand, a curious look on his face, and Agnar placed into it a sheet of paper and a D-former. The jewel was opaque and colored a steely, metallic blue. It glinted in the sunlight rather than shimmering like every other translucent D-former J.J. had ever seen.

"That should provide you the power necessary to use your own Driver once again," Agnar said, stepping back.

"What makes you say that?" Tristan asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

"It is a gift from the Seraph, and I assure you that it is compatible with you," Agnar said, his voice brimming with certainty.

"How… could you possibly know that it is compatible with my Driver?" Tristan asked skeptically.

"I know," Agnar said simply.

"Very well… suppose that I believe you," Tristan said, still not closing his hand over the gem. "You must know from what I have said that I am not certain that I agree with you. Given that, why would you present me with the means to potentially oppose you?"

"I swore a solemn oath to see it delivered to you, and you know better than anyone that I always fulfill my oaths," Agnar replied. "It is my duty as a knight to uphold my honor, no matter the situation. But more than that, I also hope that you will decide to join me. While I fully understand your distaste for the Black Seraph, I also know that you too wish to see Almencia restored. You may not agree with his methods, but his goal is, in the end, the same as ours. And unless you can propose an alternate path, it is one that I am willing to walk to the end."

"There must be other ways," Tristan said slowly.

"Perhaps, and I would happily explore them with you," Agnar agreed. "If naught else, it would be good to be working beside an old friend once more. It has been… very lonely, these past several weeks."

"I… yes, it has," Tristan agreed reluctantly, finally closing his hand over the D-former while J.J. raised an eyebrow at him under his helmet. "If nothing else, I am happy to see that you did in fact survive. That is a cross I have been bearing for years."

"I can certainly imagine. And that is only the smallest weight lifted from your shoulders, Sir Tristan," Agnar said, reaching out and clasping his shoulder. "Now imagine all that guilt removed, were we to restore Almencia as it was. We could see everyone once more! Our efforts needn't have been in vain!"

"Yeah, and all you have to do is murder at least an entire city full of people in exchange, right?" J.J. interrupted sarcastically. "Is that what the formula he has is, a life for a life? Or is it more than that?"

Agnar looked over Tristan's shoulder at J.J. for a moment before looking back at him and adding in a dry voice, "Plus, you would no longer need to suffer the opinions of foolish peasants who are beneath you. Your station would be restored, and you would once more be treated like the hero that you are, and be granted the riches and titles you are due for your role in saving our homeland. Twice over, in fact," Agnar added with a light laugh.

"Enough, please, Sir Agnar," Tristan said softly. "I will… require time to consider what you have told me."

"Of course," Agnar replied, nodding in understanding. "I shall patiently await your reply. Until then, we have a truce."

"Ah, good. Then if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hunt down that Diemon before he becomes a problem," J.J. said. Before he could move, however, the tip of Agnar's blade was at his throat. J.J.'s eyes widened behind his helmet. He hadn't even seen the sword move. How could Agnar swing a blade that big so quickly?

"My truce, peasant, is with Sir Tristan," Agnar growled threateningly. "I have made no such arrangement with you. Because Sir Tristan seems fond of you – for reasons I cannot fathom – I shall not strike you down here like I should. However, should you raise your blade against anyone who possesses the Black Seraph's gifts, I shall immediately end your life and never again give you a second thought."

"Sir Agnar!" Tristan shouted. "Please, sheathe your blade. Your actions are not strengthening your position."

Agnar continued to stare into J.J.'s eyes for a few moments longer, while J.J. felt sweat crawling down the back of his neck. Finally, however, he slowly removed the blade. "As you wish," he said softly, before giving Tristan one last look. "Do consider all that I have said, my friend. And… regardless of how the battle lines are drawn, it was good to see you once more."

"The feeling is mutual," Tristan replied sincerely. Agnar nodded, then turned and strolled away, resting the flat of his greatsword over his shoulder as he departed.

J.J. exhaled slowly between his teeth, glancing over at Tristan and managing a weak grin behind his helmet. "Really a people person, isn't he?" he quipped weakly. His hands were still trembling slightly, and his heart was pounding.

"He's always been gruff," Tristan agreed non-commitally, still staring at the D-former resting in his palm. "I wonder…." he added softly, taking the gem and looking it over.

"You're not… really thinking about joining him, are you?" J.J. asked hesitantly. Tristan glanced over at J.J. before shaking his head.

"As I told Sir Agnar, I have much to consider," Tristan said slowly. "But regardless of how this turns out, you needn't fear me turning a blade on you."

"That's not what I asked," J.J. pointed out, folding his arms.

"Do not rush me, page," Tristan warned him. "I do not have any intention of seeing Sir Agnar's mad scheme through. However, there is much that he told me that I wish to mull over, and I would ask you show me the same courtesy that he has and not harass me about my decisions."

"I… yeah, I can do that," J.J. said slowly. After a long moment, he popped his amber D-former out of his belt and caught it in the palm of his hand. His armor fractured into hundreds of amber lines around him, leaving him in his street clothes. With a sigh, he put the die back into the central socket of his diary. "Still, it's a shame that today was such a wash otherwise."

"What, do you mean this venture has been fruitless?" Tristan asked, tilting his head curiously. "I feel it was very productive."

"Well, I mean, we did get a few more answers," J.J. admitted, motioning for Tristan to walk with him back to his bike. "But the Diemon still got away. I don't even know who he is, so I can't track him down."

"Yes, it's almost as though you should have spoken with the Diemon and gathered information before charging in and attacking him as soon as you laid eyes upon him," Tristan chided him. J.J. blinked before staring at him.

"Seriously, when did you start cracking jokes and getting sarcastic?" J.J. asked. "It's starting to creep me out."

"I place the blame upon the company that I have kept for the past several weeks," Tristan replied with a soft chuckle. "Between yourself and Susumu, I have been constantly assaulted by what you consider wit. It only stands to reason that it would rub off on me, as you might say."

"Hrm. In any case, do you think Agnar was bluffing about going after me if I were to consider going after that Diemon?" J.J. asked slowly. "I really don't like the idea of letting him run around where he can continue to hurt people."

"Sir Agnar waited a thousand years to deliver a D-former to me simply because he swore an oath to do so, regardless of whether it might provide a potential enemy with a powerful weapon," Tristan pointed out. "He is not, nor has he ever been the sort to bluff. If you continue to pursue your quarry when he has warned you to desist, he will follow through on his threat to slay you."

"That's cheery of you. And optimistic," J.J. muttered.

"You should cease pursuit in the meantime anyways. You are in no state for combat," Tristan added, giving J.J. a sidelong glance as they boarded his motorcycle. "For now, let us return to Susumu's garage. I would like him to analyze this D-former, and perhaps he might be able to answer some of the questions that have been raised."

J.J. nodded and kicked his kickstand up as he started the engine. As he did, he pressed his hand to his neck and swallowed. He could still feel the point of Agnar's sword, and he knew that if Tristan hadn't been there, the knight would have thrust it through his throat. Regardless of his relationship to Tristan, J.J. at least knew that Agnar was an enemy to him. As he looked over his shoulder at Tristan, who gazed back at him curiously, he could only hope that he wouldn't soon have two to deal with. Pushing that thought out of his head, he slowly pulled away from the mall, trying to convince himself that the continued shaking in his hands was just the vibration of his bike.


	21. Session 21

**Session 21**

"That didn't take long," Gwen remarked as J.J. brought the bike to a stop in front of Susumu's garage. "What, did you seal the Diemon in ten minutes? Or did you do a lap around the city, give up, and come back here?" she teased.

"Well, I thought about following the sounds of people screaming, but then I decided to stop for a hot dog, forgot what I was doing, and decided to head back. Of course I found the Diemon," J.J. snapped in return as he dismounted the bike and removed his helmet.

"So then did you win?" Gwen pressed.

"More like it was a draw. At best," J.J. added reluctantly as Tristan prodded him in the back. "We ran into… someone unexpected."

"Who? The Fool? The Black Seraph? Quintus?" Susumu guessed as he limped out of the garage, leaning heavily on his cane.

"An old friend of mine," Tristan replied as he stepped off the bike as well. He spent the next few minutes going over what had happened while Susumu and Gwen listened intently, Susumu wearing an expression of intrigued curiosity while Gwen frowned deeply enough to give her wrinkles. When Tristan finished his story, he reached into his pocket and held out the D-former and stats page that Agnar had given to him.

"Interesting. And he just handed these over? That's suspicious," Susumu asked, holding the steel-blue D-former up to inspect it in the afternoon sunlight.

"He claimed that he had sworn to do so, and Agnar is nothing if not dedicated. When he decides on a course of action, he will always follow it through to its conclusion," Tristan replied.

"If he's that dedicated to carrying out a task and his goal is restoring his homeland by any means necessary, that makes him very dangerous," Gwen commented thoughtfully. "He sounds like a fanatic."

"A fanatic who thinks he's doing the right thing," J.J. added, leaning gently against his motorcycle and folding his arms. "It's easy to dissuade someone who's unsure about their cause, but someone who's convinced they're in the right is nearly impossible to talk to."

"Would you try to reason with him, given the chance?" Susumu asked.

"I mean… he's not a Diemon, so he's not suffering from D-former corruption. We think," J.J. added as Tristan glowered at him. "Also, he did have a Driver, and he was a friend of Tristan's." He shrugged. "Plus he's obviously a hell of a fighter. It'd be great if he was on our side."

"Oh? You'd want someone like that fighting with you?" Susumu asked, raising an eyebrow. "Someone that fanatical sounds… evil to me."

"That's just it," J.J. said, looking up at the sky as he pondered how to explain his thoughts on Agnar. "He didn't strike me as… evil, exactly. Zealous, patriotic, desperate… lonely, certainly. But I didn't get the sense that he was acting out of malice. Like I said, he's utterly convinced that he's in the right on this one. I'd also chalk that up to cultural differences. He's operating under a medieval mindset rather than a modern one. Fealty and honor are way more important to him than they are to us. That's probably what's driving him."

"Tristan's not from this time period either, and he's not swearing allegiance to the Black Seraph out of some wild hope of restoring Almencia," Gwen pointed out.

"I also was not subjected to the same horrors that Sir Agnar was," Tristan said. "When I was informed by Lord Quintus that the Black Seraph would likely recover, I was locked in stasis while my country was still celebrating its victory. I fell asleep convinced that the Black Seraph was an enemy, while Sir Agnar suffered through Almencia's collapse and the Black Seraph had months to convince him that his cause was righteous. Furthermore, once I was revived, I was informed that our country was gone, and I had months to accept that. I had already resigned myself to the thought that Almencia would never be restored. For Sir Agnar, that is his sole hope, his entire reason for living. Without it… I shudder to think what state he'd be in."

"So if I hadn't found you…?" J.J. asked slowly.

"I am uncertain if I would not have a similar viewpoint," Tristan replied. "If Sir Agnar had been the one to revive me and informed me that he had a way to restore Almencia, I likely would have been far more receptive."

"That's a cheery thought," J.J. commented drily.

A heavy silence fell over the group before Susumu turned around and began walking back into the garage. "Well then, let's see if this D-former is actually compatible with your Driver, shall we?"

"Ah… I do not wish-" Tristan said hesitantly. J.J. glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not saying you have to use it," Susumu said soothingly. "But there's no harm in seeing if it's a way to get it to work."

Tristan grunted and reluctantly followed Susumu. Behind him, J.J. and Gwen traded looks. Gwen shrugged and J.J. shook his head before they wandered in behind the two men. Susumu set the buckle of Tristan's Driver on the bench and took a seat in front of it, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Right… now the real question is how much do I have to play with you to make this thing fit?" Susumu muttered under his breath. "J.J., how did you get your diary working again? Was there a slot already in there?"

"Nuh-uh. After the White Seraph gave me my stat sheet and D-former, it just sort of… morphed itself so that a D-former would fit," J.J. replied.

"Perfect. As an engineer, I love hearing 'it just works' as an explanation," Susumu sighed, rolling the jewel around between his thumb and forefinger with a scowl on his face. For a few moments, he continued gazing at the shield, as if mulling over other options, before he finally shrugged. "Screw it. Let's try this, then."

He held the die above the shield, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the metal began to twist itself, spreading until a hexagonal pit opened in the center of the shield, just small enough to avoid obscuring the four heraldic symbols in each corner of the shield. Susumu blinked in surprise, and he moved the die closer, about to push it into the shield.

"Wait!" Tristan cried, reaching out and catching Susumu's wrist. "I… do not believe that we should experiment with the Driver in this fashion."

"Why, what's the problem?" Susumu asked, frowning.

"We are unaware of how the Driver will respond to the introduction of a D-former," Tristan explained. "And we lack information on what will be the final product of such a union. It may not be worth the risk."

"J.J. uses a D-former all the time," Susumu pointed out. "And that's worked fine. No negative side-effects whatsoever, right?" J.J. nodded.

"Yes, but the source of his D-former differs from this one," Tristan retorted. "Perhaps the D-former given to him by the White Seraph has different properties that make them suitable to use in Lord Quintus' devices. This, on the other hand, was created by the Black Seraph. We know the Black Seraph's gems corrupt the user. What if the effect is amplified when introduced to a Driver?"

"Hang on… you're really chickening out?" J.J. asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. "I know you're leery about the Black Seraph's D-formers, and I understand why, but… you're not even going to try?"

"If you truly understand my hesitation, you should not question it," Tristan replied firmly. "I had thought you would be even more averse to the risks than I, given recent events."

A sharp twinge of guilt shot through J.J.'s stomach, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. "And I'd think that if anyone would jump at a chance to fight the Black Seraph, it'd be you," he responded.

"You were the one who was giving sermons to Lady Shaw about why using a D-former was wrong!" Tristan exclaimed.

"I was looking for a way to keep a fourteen-year-old girl from being corrupted by an evil artifact, especially since she wasn't someone who should get involved in this war," J.J. snapped. "You, on the other hand, are a warrior with decades of experience dealing with Diemons and D-formers, and whose entire reason for being sealed for a thousand years was to fight the Seraph when he was resurrected. Now that you can fight again, you're shying away from it?"

"Indeed, because it is not worth the risk if there is an alternative," Tristan insisted.

"There isn't. And while you're hesitating, more people could be getting turned into Diemons as we speak," J.J. snarled.

"Very well, page. Suppose that you're wrong. Suppose that I use the D-former, as you wish, and I become a Diemon myself. You know already that the D-formers grant ordinary people miraculous abilities. Now, couple that with – as you said – my years of combat experience. You struggle to defeat victims who have never touched a blade. Do you truly think you could defeat me if I were corrupted and empowered by a D-former?"

J.J. felt a chill run down his spine at that thought. "I… would certainly try," J.J. stammered.

"You would fail," Tristan said bluntly. His tone was firm, but it wasn't malicious; he was simply stating a fact. "You could not even defeat Justin, who was by no means Almencia's finest warrior."

"I was doing alright until he ascended!" J.J. shot back.

"You had an advantage in that you were battling an opponent who was unfamiliar with your abilities. I am intimately familiar with how you fight, and I have countermeasures for every strategy you employ. Thus, I ask you again – if you are wrong, do you truly think that you possess the skill required to defeat me?"

J.J. looked away, folding his arms and remaining silent for a long moment. Tristan nodded and began to walk outside.

"Then let me ask you this," J.J. piped up, gazing at Tristan's back. "Your father was the one who created the Drivers, right? And he specifically made yours for you. Do you have so little faith in your father's work that you think he wouldn't do everything in his power to protect his son?"

Tristan's body stiffened, and J.J. smiled grimly as he saw that he'd hit a nerve with that question. A moment later, the knight resumed his walk outside without answering the question. J.J. sighed and shook his head.

"Don't try to force him, J.J.," Susumu cautioned him. "This is something he's got to figure out on his own."

"Yeah, but I'd like him to figure it out a bit faster," J.J. growled. "In the meantime… I guess I'll just have to keep doing what I've always done." With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself away from the workbench and began to walk outside after Tristan.

"Where do you think you're going?" Gwen asked sharply. "I know that look. You're planning on doing something stupid, aren't you?"

"If patrolling the city to see if I can find out whoever that Diemon was is stupid, then yeah, I'm planning on doing something stupid," J.J. said without breaking stride.

"Oh no you don't," Gwen said, reaching out and grabbing J.J.'s wrist before he could get too far away. "You're not riding that bike anywhere but back to your house."

J.J. blinked at her in surprise and tried to pull his hand free, but she tightened her grip. "Gwen, the more time I waste here, the more-!"

"Is your diary vibrating?" Gwen asked shortly.

"Wha… no, but-" J.J. stammered.

"Then he's not using his D-former, which means you have no way to track him and no reason to go after him," Gwen pointed out.

"I mean, I haven't written the Diemon in the book yet-" J.J. protested.

"Even better. Then that means that even if he _is_ out in the city, you can't know about it, meaning you're not allowed to worry about it," Gwen said with an air of finality. "You're taking the rest of the night off. You're going to shower, eat, and get some sleep."

"But-!" J.J. began to protest, but Gwen hooked her fingers around his collar and, with surprising strength, began half-dragging him away from the garage. Susumu watched them with a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

"You're not even going to help me, are you?" J.J. called out to him. Susumu responded by letting his grin spread across his face.

"You should know by now that trying to resist her when she's like this is pointless," Susumu pointed out.

J.J. sighed and gently disentangled Gwen's fingers from his jacket. "Fine, fine," he finally grumbled in a defeated voice. "Forget Agnar or the Fool. You're the one that's impossible to beat."

"So long as you know that," Gwen replied smugly, pushing him towards his bike and climbing onto it behind him. "Mush!"

* * *

 _Kelsie floated in front of him, her wings flapping lightly as she hovered in midair. A grim look settled over his face as he put his hand on his D-former and gave it a firm spin. The cry of_ _ **"Critical!"**_ _echoed in his mind as he was surrounded by an amber die, which began spinning lazily around him._

 _He could feel the strength pooling in his legs as Kelsie continued to watch him passively, daring him to make the first move. He lowered his head, then got a running start before jumping into the air. Rotating once, he brought his leg around and slammed it into her exposed chest. Kelsie didn't bother to defend herself, allowing the attack to connect without resistance._

 _J.J. somehow landed behind her, before turning around as amber cracks began to spread like spiderwebs across her silver body. Kelsie turned to face him, gazing at him with sad eyes. In a soft voice, she whispered, "I'm sorry." Then her body dissolved into a mound of dust while the sound of breaking glass filled his ears._

J.J.'s eyes snapped open, and while he didn't sit bolt upright in bed, he could feel his heart hammering in his heaving chest. His shirt was coated in sweat, and a familiar wave of nausea rolled over him. He forced himself to take a deep breath, as he always did when the nightmares crept in, and while he didn't feel better, it did give him something to focus on while he got his bearings.

Slowly, he sat up in bed and looked at the glowing green numbers of his bedside clock. It was just after five in the morning and still dark outside, but as always, after that nightmare he had little desire to go back to sleep. J.J. let out a soft, exasperated sigh as he laid back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Another early morning, then, he thought bitterly.

Still, he'd gotten a good six hours of sleep, which was more than he'd had recently. While he was still tired, his body felt refreshed just from the fact that it had gotten some much-needed rest. Of course, that was only because Gwen had insisted on making him lie down after she'd practically force-fed him dinner.

J.J. looked to his left to where Gwen was still sleeping beside him, lightly snoring. She'd fallen asleep still wearing her clothes, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was more exhausted than he was. He couldn't blame her, as she'd spent the evening flitting around and forcing him to focus on taking care of himself for a change.

As soon as he'd gotten in the door with her on his heels, she'd forced him into the bathroom and pointed to the shower before closing the door. He'd suspected she would have locked it too if she'd had a key. Once he was cleaned up, he emerged to find that she'd already cooked them a light, simple pasta dish with olive oil, garlic, and tomatoes. While he'd protested at first, he was surprised to find that he was able to keep it down, and even enjoyed her cooking… which in turn made him wonder if he wasn't just a terrible cook in his own right. She'd then turned off the news and instead insisted on watching a few bad movies with him until it got late. To his surprise, halfway through he'd found himself laughing at one of the comedies she'd put on, and he had been rather enjoying her small body curled up against his side the entire time. They went to bed around eleven, and for most of the night he'd managed to sleep dreamlessly… until a few moments ago.

J.J. smiled to himself and leaned over, kissing her forehead gently. A sleepy smile crossed her lips before she turned over. He let out a sigh before reluctantly pushing himself up and changing his clothes. Even though he doubted he would get any more sleep, there was no reason for him to disturb her.

As he gazed around the silent room, he briefly considered putting the news on and checking on the state of the city, but the thought caused a new wave of nausea to wash over him, so he suppressed the thought. Instead, he figured he may as well pay Gwen back for her kindness, so he walked to the small kitchen and turned on a dim light. For the next hour, he occupied himself with cleaning up the apartment and then cooking her breakfast. He only paused when he saw sit up in bed, looking around blearily.

"What time is it?" she murmured, brushing her hand over her face.

"Early," J.J. replied with a rueful grin. "If you want, you can go back to sleep; I was just making something for later."

"Nah… I usually wake up early anyways," Gwen replied. A yawn betrayed her, though, and J.J. grinned at her lightly.

"You're a bad liar when you're sleepy, you know," he teased her.

"Whatever you're making woke me up," she replied, padding over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "What've you got?"

"Just some eggs, toast, and tea," J.J. replied with a shrug. "Nothing too heavy, but enough to get us moving. You did prefer tea over coffee, right?"

"Chamomile, if you have it," Gwen said as she leaned against his side while he pushed the eggs around the skillet with a spatula.

"Yep. Mind taking over for a moment, though?" he asked, handing her the spatula. She blinked at him curiously but nodded as he moved past her towards his bedside table.

"What're you doing?" she asked, keeping one eye on the food. J.J. didn't answer her, instead picking up his diary and holding it up for her to see. Her expression deepened into a scowl, and she tapped on the counter with her free hand.

"You know, I didn't spend all day forcing you to relax just to have you screw all that up before the sun's even risen," she chided.

"I'm not going to go running off before I've eaten," J.J. assured her. "I'm pretty sure you'd tie me to a chair if I tried that. But I remembered that I didn't even write down what the Diemon was yesterday."

"Uh-huh… tell me where you keep your rope," Gwen sighed. "Still… from how you described this guy's Diemon form… doesn't sound like any fantasy creature I've heard of."

"It's not one of the usual ones… but I have an idea," J.J. said, flipping over to a blank page. His quill flew into his hand, and he wrote a single word at the top of the page. Gwen's curiosity got the better of her, and she craned her neck. As the quill began dancing across the page automatically, she stared in disbelief at the word he'd written down.

"…Owlbear?" she asked, a blank look on her face.

"Yep," J.J. said with a shrug. "I was mentally going down the list of mythological creatures, and nothing seemed to fit, so I took a shot in the dark. Seems like that was the right one."

"Yeah, but… why would an ancient artifact base a form off a modern monster?" Gwen asked.

"Maybe the guy had some exposure to an owlbear and the D-former decided his form was best suited for his desires? I dunno," J.J. shrugged. "Either way, at least now I know what I'm dealing with if I run into him again."

"J.J…." Gwen said softly.

"And thankfully his stats aren't anything special, at least compared to some of the others that I've fought. So hopefully if I see him again, I can take him down without too many problems. The only issue is going to be fending off Agnar at the same time," he murmured to himself.

"Do you… have to go off right now?" Gwen asked.

J.J. hesitated, then snapped his diary shut. "…Like you said, if it's not buzzing, I don't have a lead anyways," he said reluctantly. "But I do still need to see Tristan and Susumu about something when I get the chance."

"That's… fair, I suppose," Gwen murmured. "But at least have breakfast with me. I don't want to let you out of my sight right now."

"Deal," J.J. said with a soft smile. "Let's eat, then, before the food gets cold."

* * *

After Gwen left, J.J. cleaned up the dishes and drove over to Susumu's garage. The mechanic was alone in his workshop when J.J. pulled up, and as he dismounted, Susumu turned to nod briefly at him before swinging back around. J.J. walked into the garage and paused as he saw Tristan's Driver on the workbench beside the D-former and stat page.

"So… he decided not to take them, huh?" J.J. asked. His tone was level, as he wasn't disappointed or surprised. To him, it was just another thing he had to accept.

"He was going back and forth about it all night," Susumu said as he held a flashlight up, peering into the interior wiring of a radio. "He left this morning. Said he was going to go for a walk to clear his head."

"Do you know where he went? I was hoping to have a chat with him," J.J. said, leaning on the table with his arms folded.

"He mentioned that he wanted some fresh air, so I pointed him to the park. It's within walking distance, and he left less than an hour ago. He should probably still be there, if you can find him," Susumu said.

"Thanks. Need a hand with anything?" J.J. asked.

"Nah. You have enough to worry about anyways, and it's nice having some free time to myself," Susumu said with a slight grin. From his tone, it was clear that he wasn't serious. "So how about if you get out of my hair too so I can get some work done? It's been a nice change being able to work without listening to you two complaining about Diemons all the time."

"We can switch if you prefer," J.J. said with a smirk. "I'll start walking with a limp and you can risk your life fighting monsters."

Susumu snorted and shooed J.J. off with a sweeping motion of his hand. J.J. grinned in reply and turned to leave, but he paused as he spotted a length of pipe about five feet long sticking out of one of Susumu's scrap piles. An idea struck him, and he stooped down to pick up the pipe before walking back to his bike, mounting up, and setting off down the road again. As he drove, he realized that he hadn't been to the park since his fight with Irene. He wondered, how much had she managed to clean up? A nostalgic smile crossed his face. That had also been where he had first met Kelsie….

The thought caused his stomach to twist itself up in knots, and J.J. ruthlessly shook his head to erase that thought. As a result, he nearly missed Tristan walking along the edge of a small lake, gazing out into the water, lost in thought. J.J. brought his bike to a screeching halt and dismounted as Tristan looked up, surprised to see him.

"Page! You… appear to have recovered somewhat," Tristan commented, looking J.J. up and down.

"Yeah, amazing what a shower'll do for your appearance. Glad I at least look better. Feeling it is another matter, but I assume that's gonna take some time," J.J. replied, walking over to stand beside the knight.

"The pain will fade," Tristan assured him. "It lessens as each day passes." The two stood beside each other in silence for several long moments before Tristan sighed and added, "But I assume you did not seek me out simply to inform me that your condition has marginally improved."

"Not exactly," J.J. said. "I… saw that you didn't take your Driver with you." He was careful to keep his tone neutral, so that it didn't sound like he was disappointed.

"I… still cannot bring myself to wield it," Tristan admitted, lowering his gaze. "Though a solution to repairing it is before my eyes, the risk of what might occur still gives me pause." He glanced sidelong at J.J. before adding softly, "You think me a coward."

"I'm not exactly someone who can pass judgment on who's a coward and who isn't," J.J. replied with a bitter smile. "You're talking to the guy that let an innocent girl achieve Apotheosis because he couldn't bring himself to seal her powers when she needed it. I'm not going to be the pot calling the kettle black here. Besides, putting on your armor is your choice. If you don't want to exercise that choice, that's your decision. I don't get a say in it."

Tristan's mouth quirked before looking back up at the lake. "You have my gratitude for accepting my position, then, page. Yet… you still seem to be considering something."

"Well… I was thinking," J.J. said slowly, gazing into the water. "I can accept that you don't want to suit up. That's fine. But I still have to deal with the Diemons. And if Agnar's defending them, then he's someone I'm going to have to face eventually. I can't keep ducking around him and hoping I can seal the Diemons away before he cuts me down."

"Indeed…." Tristan agreed cautiously.

"Which means I have to settle for the next best thing," J.J. explained, turning to face Tristan. "Teach me how Agnar fights."

Tristan jerked his head up, staring at J.J. "That… you do not seem to grasp the folly of what you ask, page," Tristan warned him. "Sir Agnar is the greatest warrior that Almencia ever produced. And as you saw, he is not one to give quarter, especially to those that he considers beneath him. Should you face him, it will almost certainly mean your death."

"If you have an alternative, please, I'd love to hear it," J.J. replied simply. "I'm not going to let him defend Diemons until they reach Apotheosis. At best, anyone who achieves Apotheosis is doomed to die shortly after, either by my hand or by his. At worst, he could turn the entire city into a second Almencia, and we'd have Diemons and Shards running wild in the streets. I can't just do nothing"

"That is noble, but even if I provide an accurate mimicry of his fighting style, it will do little to prepare you," Tristan said. "He simply has far more skill and experience than you do. Even with preparation, you will be as a child playing with a toy before him."

"Yeah, but you said yourself that I'm at my best when I've had time to analyze my opponent and figure out counters," J.J. pointed out. "I can't exactly write his stats down in the diary, since I haven't even landed a hit on him, and even if I had, I'm not sure if it could provide information about another Driver. Therefore, this solution is the next best thing. You must know at least something about his fighting style, since you were his partner for years, right? If anyone can provide me some insight into potential strengths and weaknesses, it's you. And who knows? Maybe I'll land a lucky hit. Even if it raises my chances of winning from a hundredth of a percent to a tenth, I'd like to at least have that chance."

Tristan continued to stare out at the lake for several long moments, pondering, while J.J. shifted his weight back and forth from one leg to the other. Finally, the knight slowly sighed and murmured, "I must admit, I cannot propose a better solution. Very well. I shall endeavor to mimic Sir Agnar's fighting style as best I can. Just… bear in mind that merely viewing his style will likely not be enough for you to adequately counter him. You are still putting yourself in grave peril should you choose to engage him."

"Then let's hope that he lets me just go after whatever Diemons are around," J.J. chuckled darkly, walking over to his bike and pulling the long pipe off the end of it and holding it out for Tristan to take. "Shall we get started?"

Tristan nodded reluctantly and took the pipe as J.J. tossed his jacket onto his bike, turned, and walked about ten feet away before holding his hand out. His quill flew into his hand, and he clicked it into its sword form before he murmured to the sword to blunt itself. Tristan, in turn, took a neutral two-handed stance with the sword held out in front of him while J.J. settled into his usual fencing stance. The two nodded to each other before they began circling each other in a familiar dance.

"Sir Agnar possesses several advantages over you," Tristan explained as J.J. tried to find an opening. He tentatively batted the pipe, and Tristan responded by stabbing towards J.J.'s chest. He managed to lean out of the way in time, but the pipe still scraped his shoulder. If that had been a blade, it would have been a clean hit.

"As you can see," Tristan added with a slight smile. "Let us put aside his years of experience and simply focus on his physical advantages. For one, his blade obviously has far more reach than yours, which already puts you at a significant disadvantage. Thus, what is the best course of action?"

"Closing the distance?" J.J. asked, moving to do just that. Tristan took a couple steps back and tapped J.J. on the shoulder again.

"Indeed. If you can get close enough, you gain the advantage. However, doing so is easier said than done. In your base form, it is nigh impossible. His reach gives him ample time to counter the maneuver," Tristan replied, shaking his head. "Now, were you to attempt to match him blow for blow, you would lose. Even in Warrior Class, you do not possess the strength required to overpower him."

"Then what about speed?" J.J. asked, stepping back so he could talk. "He can't be that fast, especially having to swing that sword around. I was toying with that idea before you interrupted our fight yesterday."

"It is fortunate that I did, then," Tristan replied, lowering the pipe. "Your Thief Class may be somewhat swifter than Sir Agnar, but he possesses more speed than you might suspect. He can compensate. Furthermore, his armor is quite thick, and you would need to land multiple strikes before you inflicted any major damage, so throwing your dagger is not an option. Thief Class also enhances the weakness presented by your base form's short range. You will need to be extremely close to his body before you can effectively negate the reach his greatsword grants him. Attempting this will be very dangerous, especially given the low defense of Thief Class."

J.J. let out a slow sigh, looking up at the sky for a moment while giving his sword a little twirl. "Then that leaves magical resistance. How is he at absorbing elemental attacks?"

"That… I am unsure of," Tristan admitted. "We did not have access to Devon's diary for much of the war, and we never attempted to examine our own suits' abilities in a numerical fashion the way you do. Therefore, I cannot provide any information on how effective magical attacks would be."

"So then that's something I might use," J.J. suggested, his face brightening.

"I did not say that," Tristan replied. "I have seen Sir Agnar shrug off powerful attacks from creatures who possessed magical abilities. Furthermore, you must keep in mind that Mage Class is ill-suited to defending against an aggressive opponent, given the class's defensive weakness. Sir Agnar is swift enough that he could pursue you before you cast spells, and his physical strength is more than adequate to batter you into submission were he to get into range."

J.J.'s face fell again, and he scratched under his chin, trying to curb his growing frustration. "So what you're telling me is that there's nothing I can exploit?"

"It is merely a matter of equipment and experience," Tristan said gently. "Remember that Sir Agnar was already an accomplished warrior when he first reached our shores, and only improved as time went on. It was as if the years had little effect on his body – he simply seemed to grow stronger as he aged. Furthermore, your own armor is, sadly, inferior to ours when it comes to combat ability. It was meant to serve as an auxiliary piece to provide us with information; it was hardly meant to fight on the front lines beside us. Sir Agnar's armor, by contrast, was specifically modeled for battle, and thus its strengths are oriented towards combat."

J.J. tapped the flat of his sword against his jeans in irritation. "Alright, well, you've broken down why I shouldn't be able to win a fight against him," he growled. "So what about the opposite? If you were in my situation, what would you do to beat him?"

Tristan exhaled slowly, looking J.J. over, before shaking his head. "There is… little that I can recommend. He may not be aware of your suit's capabilities, so perhaps your versatility will provide you with a slim advantage, at least early in the fight. If you do not allow him time to study you, fortune may favor you and you may emerge victorious before Sir Agnar has time to adjust to your fighting style."

"…So basically, I can only win with a fluke," J.J. said bitterly.

Tristan glanced away, murmuring, "As I said repeatedly, you are at a severe disadvantage."

J.J. nodded, slipping into his fencing stance again. "Alright. In that case, it sounds like trying to press him with Thief Class is the best chance I have at beating him. High risk, high reward. So, can you teach me how to slip inside his range?"

"Very well," Tristan nodded, once again setting his stance. "Come. Attack, while I attempt to keep you at a safe distance."

For the next half hour, the sound of metal clanging against metal rang across the lake as J.J. struggled to get inside of Tristan's reach. Each time he was foiled regardless of how he dodged, blocked, or charged towards the knight. Within ten minutes, he was already panting and sporting several bruises, and after thirty minutes he was on the verge of collapse. Worse, he had only managed to nick Tristan twice, and both times were because of sheer luck – once Tristan had slightly wrenched his wrist, allowing an opening, and once, Tristan had slipped on a rock and J.J. had happened to get close enough to touch him while his guard had faltered. And then he had suffered a blow to his shoulder immediately afterwards.

"This… is… impossible," J.J. wheezed, doubled over with his hands on his knees. Tristan lowered the pipe, motioning for J.J. to step back and take a break. J.J. nodded gratefully and walked over to his bike, grabbing a water bottle from his bag and taking a long drink before tossing it to Tristan.

"That was so cool!" a high-pitched voice interrupted. Both J.J. and Tristan turned to see a boy of about eight grinning up at them with bright eyes. His mother was standing about ten feet away from them, grinning apologetically.

"I'm sorry, we heard you guys fighting and Kevin here insisted on coming over to watch. Are you two performers or something?" she asked.

"Yeah," J.J. said quickly. "We're doing this for a medieval reenactment stage fight."

"Well, you're both very good swordsmen," she praised them.

"Can you show us more?!" the boy added, beaming up at them. J.J. smiled back uncomfortably, before looking away. In that instant, he felt like he was looking at Kelsie again, and his stomach once again knotted itself up.

"We're… taking a bit of a break, kiddo. Maybe another time, alright?" J.J. suggested.

"Aw…." Kevin sighed. "Well… can we at least go watch those guys Aunt Tracey called you about?"

"No, Kevin. That's dangerous," his mother chided him. J.J.'s smile dropped immediately.

"What guys?" J.J. asked sharply. The woman glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh! Uh… I got a call that there were 'performers' over in the market district of Old Marville." She air-quoted the word "performers" while giving J.J. a meaningful look that made his blood run cold. "Be sure to stay away from there for a while."

"I see. Thanks for the heads-up," J.J. said, and as the woman and her son left, he jogged over to his bike and reached into the pocket of his jacket, where he felt his diary vibrating. He cursed softly under his breath and wiped the sweat from his eyes.

"Wish I'd caught that sooner," he growled, pulling his jacket back on as Tristan rested the pipe on his shoulder and gave J.J. a sidelong look.

"Are you departing then? Even knowing now how outmatched you are?" Tristan asked softly. "Fighting a Diemon is a challenge. Fighting one supported by Sir Agnar is an impossibility."

"Maybe. But I still have to," J.J. replied, climbing onto his bike and strapping on his helmet. "After all, there's no one else who can. Besides, I've always been alone anyways, so it's not like anything has changed. Just gotta worry about one more thing this time."

"Page…." Tristan said slowly.

"Keep an eye on things here for me," J.J. added. "If any Shards show up, take care of them. I'm off." Before Tristan could say any more, he turned the bike around and raced down the narrow street towards Old Marville.

Thankfully, the area between the park and Old Marville saw little traffic, and he was able to make excellent time. In a way, he was grateful that, for once, a Diemon was choosing to attack the less densely populated area of the town. It also meant there would probably be fewer casualties. Plus, it gave him time to transform without worrying about witnesses. As he drove, he opened his diary, letting the wind blow it to his stats page. He yelled over the roar of the engine, "Henshin!" and his Driver appeared around his waist. He snapped the book shut and slipped it into the belt buckle, before giving the amber D-former a spin. The book cried, **"Adventure: Begin!"** and an amber die began spinning around him while trumpets played. In short order, he was covered in his brown leather suit. When the spinning stopped, he slipped the book out of his belt and put it on the dashboard of the bike before revving the engine and speeding the last half mile towards the shabby yet scenic Old Marville.

Unlike the towering commercial buildings of downtown Marville, the market district Old Marville was dominated by small businesses, with single-story shops that specialized in homemade goods. Despite the slightly rundown look of the area, there was also a hominess that was comforting and welcoming. J.J. was almost enjoying cruising through this part of town until screams caught his attention. He turned to his left and brought his bike to a halt as he saw a monstrous figure exiting a jewelry store, strands of diamonds and gold hanging from its claws, while a large figure in red armor followed him.

"This is awesome!" the owlbear crowed, dangling a gold necklace in front of his eyes. "I really gotta hand it to the Black Seraph, he follows through on his promises!"

"So lemme guess," J.J. called out as he stepped off his bike, drawing the attention of both the Diemon and Agnar. "If D-formers give someone a new role, you always wanted to be a felon when you grew up, didn't you?"

The owlbear's eyes widened, and he shrank behind Agnar. "You're not gonna let him near me, right?" the owlbear asked as he cowered.

"You have my word," Agnar replied, though J.J. thought he heard a faint note of disgust in his tone. J.J., however, held up his hand.

"Hang on, hang on. Parley," J.J. announced.

Agnar hesitated. "Come again?"

"Come on, you're Norman. You should speak French," J.J. said sarcastically. He paused, though, and added thoughtfully, "Or did that word exist in Old French? Hm. Either way, I'm just here to talk to that Diemon. You said you'd only raise your blade against me if I tried to fight you, right? So just let me talk."

Agnar continued to hesitate, sizing J.J. up from behind his mask. He then slowly lowered his sword and rested the tip on the ground, putting both hands on the pommel. "You may speak, but speak quickly, peasant," Agnar warned him. "And no trickery."

J.J. inclined his head in gratitude before looking past Agnar. "You. What's your name?"

The owlbear hesitated, looking unsure, before saying slowly, "Brent."

"Brent. What'd the Black Seraph offer you?" J.J. asked. "What was it that you wanted? Maybe we can work something out."

"What I wanted?" Brent repeated, before laughing. "Man, I was bored! But I saw all these guys on TV turning into monsters and having fun, and I thought to myself, 'Man, that'd be sweet!' So I made it known that I was interested in the Seraph to my friends in college, and bam, a week later? Black Seraph comes by with an offer for me. Says I'd never be bored again. And he was right! Being a monster is a blast!"

J.J. silently glared at the Diemon, letting the silence linger dangerously in the air for several long moments after Brent finished speaking, before asking softly, "So… you're doing this… because you thought it'd be fun?"

"Hell yeah, man!" Brent laughed. "What other reason do I need?"

J.J. closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. "You know… every other Diemon I've ever faced… every single one I felt at least a little sympathy for, since they had an actual reason why they'd been reduced to relying on what the Black Seraph gave them. I should've expected at least one person would just want to cause chaos. But boy, you really picked the wrong week to act like a complete jackass."

"Yeah? What're you gonna do about it?" Brent taunted him. "My bodyguard here says he's gonna let me do whatever I want for as long as I like."

"Until that jewel takes over your body and he kills you for it," J.J. retorted.

The smile on Brent's beak faltered, and he glanced over at Agnar. "Is… that true?"

Agnar looked over his shoulder at Brent, before replying simply, "The Black Seraph said he would grant you the opportunity to fulfill you desires. You wish to rampage, so rampage."

Brent hesitated, glancing back and forth between the two armored figures, before a hesitant grin spread across his lips. "Yeah…." he said slowly. "Nah, he's gotta be yanking my chain, right? Besides, I'm sure I could take you on myself." With that, he turned around and dove back into the jewelry store to retrieve more gems.

"Yeah, I turned you into fried chicken once, and now you're hiding behind a bodyguard. You've totally got this, man," J.J. pointed out bitingly. He let out a soft sigh, holding his hand out. His quill flew into his palm, and he clicked it out into its sword form, while Agnar stared at him.

"Are you breaking the parley, then, peasant?" Agnar growled.

"Very reluctantly," J.J. replied.

"Tell me, peasant, why bother trying to save this one?" Agnar asked. "He made his decision, and he is reveling in his power. He shall achieve Apotheosis shortly, and then I shall slay him before he damages your city further. As you said, others who have accepted the Black Seraph's gift have done so for noble causes, yet this one merely seeks to satisfy his own whims. That is hardly a cause to fight for, and once he achieves Apotheosis and lies dead, the world shall not weep. Why struggle to defend him?"

"Well… I do agree that he should be kicked around a bit for being an idiot," J.J. admitted, giving his sword a little twirl to steady his nerves as he sized up Agnar, trying to get a sense of his range. "Maybe that'd knock some sense into him. But I'm not going to let you kill him. He doesn't deserve that. Besides, I made a promise to someone that I wasn't going to let anyone else suffer what she did." With that, he dropped into his fencing stance, looking behind Agnar to try and figure out how he was going to slip into the jewelry shop and seal Brent.

Agnar stared at J.J. silently for a long moment before slowly raising his sword. "Your courage is commendable, for a peasant," Agnar praised him. "However, I have shown you more than enough leniency, and only because you are Sir Tristan's squire. You were warned what would happen should you raise your blade again, and you willfully ignored it. Have at you, then."

J.J. tentatively stepped forward, starting to circle around Agnar, who held his position in front of the large broken window of the jewelry shop. J.J. realized that he fully intended to keep his word about protecting Brent, especially since Agnar realized that the Diemon was J.J.'s goal. J.J. slowly lowered his stance, realizing that he'd have to pull Agnar away from the window if he wanted a shot at Brent. He took a few steps back, then put his hand on his black D-former and gave it a spin.

 **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his Driver shouted, and he was enveloped in an onyx crystal that rotated around him as chimes played. As the spinning stopped, he stood stoically in front of Agnar, clad in a black tunic. He pointed his staff at the knight while focusing on his anger at Brent, and a stream of flame erupted from the end of his weapon. He quickly encircled Agnar with the fire, hoping to either do damage to him or at least frighten him enough to back off.

As the flames enveloped Agnar, however, he simply swung his greatsword in a wide arc, and the flames died down enough for him to calmly step over them. J.J.'s eyes widened, and he began backing away from the red-armored knight as he commented, "Gaze upon my armor. Did you truly believe flames would be effective against a dragon? You peasants truly are ignorant fools."

J.J. forced himself to calm down and again pointed his staff at Agnar, this time letting his fury settle into a cold rage in the pit of his stomach. A wave of snow and freezing water struck Agnar in the chest, encasing his torso in ice. J.J. pointed the staff at the ground as well to cover his feet, while Agnar simply braced himself against the attack. Once it stopped, he was covered from his chest down to the ground in glittering ice.

Agnar looked down at himself, chuckling once, and with a grunt he flexed his body. The ice around him cracked loudly, and he stepped out of his icy cocoon and continued his slow advance on J.J., who kept backing away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Agnar had finally left his place by the window, and he put his hand on his blue D-former, giving it a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his Driver shouted, and a saxophone played as his body was hidden behind a sapphire gem. When the spinning stopped, he gripped his daggers and darted towards Agnar, who seemed surprised that J.J. was attacking him, but immediately recovered and brought his sword up to defend himself.

J.J. ducked under the first swing of the sword and closed in, but Agnar brought his blade up far more quickly than J.J. had expected. Before he was halfway down its length, Agnar cleaved downward towards him. J.J. shifted his momentum to the side and dodged to the left, and Agnar responded by turning his wrist and swinging towards him. J.J. couldn't defend in time, and the sword caught him solidly in the ribs. He let out a choked gasp as he was knocked away and sprawled on the ground.

"You're swift," Agnar commented, striding towards J.J. calmly as he struggled to his feet. "However, your movements are predictable."

J.J. growled and crouched low, darting forward again and bringing his blades up to defend himself. Agnar lifted his sword up and swung it down hard, and J.J. slid to his right, but this time kept his blades up, running them along the edge of Agnar's sword. Agnar was far stronger than he was, though, and he swung his blade around, knocking J.J. back again, though fortunately this time he didn't land a solid hit thanks to J.J.'s defense.

Since he was able to keep his balance, J.J. skidded to a halt and dashed in again. Agnar thrusted his sword towards him, and J.J. spun to the side, parrying the attack and ducking beneath it as he did. For the first time, he was within striking range of Agnar, and the knight didn't have time to pull his blade back. J.J. gripped his daggers tightly and let out a yell as he buried the points of his daggers into Agnar's chest. Unfortunately, the blades barely dug into the metallic armor. Agnar and J.J. froze for a second, staring at each other, before Agnar unceremoniously backhanded him, making J.J. bite his cheek. Agnar then put his boot in J.J.'s chest and kicked him away. J.J. fell to the ground again, stunned.

"And to think I feared your attacks might have some bite to them," Agnar sneered, lifting his sword up again and resting it over his shoulder. J.J. grunted and looked past him, noting that Agnar had finally moved far enough away from the window for him to at least try to get at it.

Slowly, he climbed to his feet, and as Agnar drew close, he put his hand on the blue D-former again and gave it another spin. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and as a sapphire enveloped him, he faded from view. Not wasting any time, J.J. turned and sprinted for the broken window, but before he'd even taken a few steps, he felt a heavy weight slam into his back and knock him to his stomach again. J.J. laid there, unmoving, until his Critical faded and he phased back into view. Agnar stood over him, gazing down at him pitilessly.

"As I said, you are predictable," Agnar commented. "Your intention to assault the other peasant were clear from the moment we began this fight, and I had already witnessed that technique in your previous battle. Did you think you would surprise me with it?"

J.J. looked over his shoulder as Agnar raised his blade above his head to deliver the coup de grace. J.J. dropped his hand to his belt and gave his red D-former a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** the Driver shouted, and as war drums played, J.J.'s body was protected by a scarlet die, which enveloped him and knocked Agnar back a couple steps. J.J. pushed himself to his feet as the spinning stopped, but he was still panting, his hammer gripped loosely in his right hand while Agnar gazed at him calmly.

J.J. knew that in this form, he stood very little chance against Agnar, since he was outmatched in speed, and it didn't matter how strong he was if he couldn't land a hit. However, he might get lucky, he reasoned, and Warrior Class seemed to be the only form he had that might have the power to do some damage. With a grunt, he lifted his hammer up and plodded over to Agnar, who J.J. could swear was sporting a look of amusement even though he couldn't see the man's face.

J.J. swung his hammer across his body, but Agnar simply leaned back to avoid the blow before stepping in and driving the point of his greatsword into J.J.'s shoulder. The weapon effortlessly pierced his armor, and J.J. screamed in pain as his left arm fell limp. Agnar stepped back a moment later, once more taking a ready position. From that one exchange, J.J. knew he wouldn't be able to hit Agnar with a normal attack, and that Agnar intended to simply toy with him. He only had one option left.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, J.J. gave the red D-former another spin, and the cry of **"Critical!"** resounded through the empty streets again. J.J. was enveloped in another ruby crystal which coalesced on the head of J.J.'s hammer, the light pulsing as he lifted his hammer above his head. It was plainly obvious what he was about to do, but he had no choice.

Agnar let J.J. lift his hammer up, and with a short yell, J.J. swung it down with all his strength. Agnar could have easily stepped out of the way, but instead he brought his sword up and caught the attack on his blade, parrying it. His knees bent under the weight of the attack, but nevertheless the knight was able to block it completely. J.J.'s eyes widened with fright as Agnar waited for the Critical to dissipate, trapping J.J. in a blade lock, and once the light faded, he shoved J.J.'s hammer back before delivering a vicious slash across his chest.

J.J. let out a choked gasp of pain as the blade bit into his armor, and as he fell to the pavement, he heard the sound of glass cracking around him. Looking down, ruby-red lines spiderwebbed across his armor before it shattered, leaving him lying on the ground, completely exposed and helpless before the knight.

"Unworthy," Agnar said simply as he gazed down at his fallen opponent. "You possess Devon's diary, but you were never fit to bear his arms. With this, I shall at least rectify that dishonor."

"One who betrayed his homeland is unfit to speak of the honor of others," a familiar voice replied. J.J. rolled his head back, and saw that standing a few feet away was Tristan, holding his Driver in one hand and his shield in the other. Lodged in the center of the shield was the metallic D-former that Agnar had given him. J.J. grinned broadly at him, his delight momentarily causing him to forget how much pain he was in.

"Nice of you to join us," J.J. quipped. "What kept you?"

"Can you fathom how long it takes to run to Susumu's garage and then here?" Tristan pointed out.

"Sir Tristan," Agnar said conversationally, lowering his blade as he turned his attention to the other knight. "I trust you have come to a decision, have you?"

"Quite. I sympathize with you, Sir Agnar, and I truly wish we could restore Almencia, but that 'peasant' at your feet was correct – preventing others from becoming Diemons is paramount when compared with the goal of restoring our homeland. And you do not have the right to claim he has dishonored our armor when you bear your arms in the name of the one who annihilated our homeland in the first place." Tristan said.

Agnar sighed, stepping over J.J. to stand a few feet from Tristan, resting the point of his blade on the pavement. "You will take up arms against me, then, old friend?"

"You can assist us, and that would prevent this conflict," Tristan offered.

"Aside from the fact that I agree with the Seraph's goals?" Agnar replied. "I would not dishonor myself by renouncing my oath of fealty."

"Then I am afraid I have no other course I can take," Tristan sighed. He glanced past him to J.J. "I apologize for my hesitation, page. From now on, you no longer have to do this alone."

"What, you're not afraid of the D-formers anymore?" J.J. managed to quip, spitting out a gob of blood.

"I shall always be cautious of them. But I am a knight, and I must do all I can to protect those that cannot protect themselves. If I am to be damned for it… then so be it," Tristan replied, a look of conviction on his face.

J.J. nodded as Tristan strapped the belt around his waist and clicked the central D-former in his shield. A metallic, yet regal voice asked, **"Activation phrase?"**

Tristan glanced over at J.J. again, smiling faintly. "I trust that you will not mind if I borrow yours?" Before he could answer, Tristan called out, "Henshin!" He held the shield in front of him, before slotting it into his belt and giving the central D-former a spin.

 **"Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"** the Driver shouted, and Tristan's body was encased by a shining azure die, which spun around him rapidly as brassy cymbals rang in the air. When the spinning stopped, Tristan stood in front of Agnar clad in armor far different from either of the previous two suits.

The predominant color of Tristan's armor was a bright metallic blue color that glinted majestically in the sun. His torso was covered in a full plate cuirass slightly stylized to resemble a tower shield, with his shoulder protected by shield-shaped pauldrons, while his arms were encased in unadorned plate armor, broken only by narrow joints at the elbows that revealed a black bodysuit beneath it. His hands likewise were backed by armor, though his palms were exposed, once more revealing the black suit beneath the metal. The breastplate extended past his groin, with the Driver resting comfortably around his waist. His thighs were likewise encased in blue steel, as were his shins and kneecaps, and pointed armored boots protected his feet. Atop Tristan's head was a cylindrical greathelm, though the eye-slits were replaced by a jewel-like turquoise shield bisected by a downward-pointing silver sword, with each half of the shield being as large as Tristan's face.

The other major facet of Tristan's armor was the large steel kite shield strapped to his left arm, which protected most of his body. The shield was quartered in much the same way as his Driver, with a golden cross dividing it so that each quarter had a different device – a bull's head, a diving falcon, a rampant stallion, and a hedgehog. In his right hand, he carried no weapon, but that didn't seem to matter to him as he looked down at his armored form.

"Ah… now this… this feels right," Tristan laughed, flexing his right hand and hefting his shield with his left. He looked up at Agnar, and J.J. could practically feel him beaming from behind his helmet. "It would seem that your assessment was correct, that this D-former was indeed compatible with my armor," Tristan commented. "Tell me, though, Sir Agnar. How did you know that I would be able to don my armor with it?"

Agnar tilted his head slightly as he replied, "Why would you not? I suspected one of the Black Seraph's jewels would recognize its kin. And that D-former belonged to your brother before I slew him."

Tristan went rigid, and J.J.'s mouth fell open. Perhaps most shocking was not the revelation, but the conversational way Agnar mentioned it, as if he was commenting on a movie he'd seen. A few moments later, Tristan said in a deadly soft voice, "Elaborate."

"I mentioned that Almencia had been overrun by Diemons," Agnar explained calmly. "One of those that I encountered was your brother. Your father had been slain before Diemons overran the island, but your brother lingered. He still retained his senses to some degree, and he informed me that Lord Quintus had feared that our armor would not have enough power to last a millennium, but that a solution may yet lie in the Seraph's jewels. I recall that he regretted becoming a Diemon, but that he truly wished he could have done more to assist you. Thus, I granted his wish and slew him, before taking his jewel for your use when you next awoke."

Tristan slowly looked down at his armor again, and when he spoke, his voice shook slightly with rage. "I do not begrudge your survival, Sir Agnar. In the final days of Almencia, I am certain you did what you must to survive. But… you slew my brother… while he retained his senses? In cold blood?"

"I would hardly call it in cold blood, but yes," Agnar shrugged.

"And you show no remorse?!" Tristan barked. "That was my brother!"

"Why should that matter?" Agnar asked. "He was no knight, and he had become a Diemon. You have also slain Diemons. What I did was a mercy. Should I have allowed him to succumb to madness?"

"When I slew Diemons, I did so because I had no other choice!" Tristan roared. "And I mourned every one! I did not kill one who was still sane and who did not raise their hand against me! What you did is tantamount to murder!"

"I fail to understand your fury. Do you seek satisfaction, sir?" Agnar asked, tilting his head.

"I do indeed! I challenge you to a duel, Sir Agnar!" Tristan shouted. "To the death!"

"Very well. I accept," Agnar said simply.

"Tristan, wait!" J.J. grunted, trying to push himself up. He put his hand on his D-former and gave it a spin, but nothing happened. Growling in frustration, he looked up and insisted, "Dueling him now is a terrible idea!"

"Says the boy who charged into battle with the fighting prowess of a child," Agnar sneered. "Peasants have no say in the affairs of knights. Lay back down on the ground, boy. I shall dispatch you shortly."

Before any of them could move, however, a roar caught their attention. All three whipped their heads towards the broken window of the jewelry shop as Brent staggered outside, his body engulfed in a bright fuchsia light. As the light dissipated, glowing runes spread across his body and his eyes began shining the same purple-pink color. J.J. stared at him in horror, his heart sinking.

"No…." he murmured, his voice almost a whimper. He'd just made a promise to Kelsie to prevent anyone else from achieving Apotheosis, and yet in his very first fight after making that promise, he'd already failed. Was he really that useless?

"Ah, excellent," Agnar commented. "My mission has been completed, so you have my undivided attention, Sir Tristan. Shall we proceed with the duel? Who will you name as your second?"

Before Tristan could respond, however, Brent suddenly charged at Agnar, who stepped back and swung his blade at the Diemon to ward it off. Brent swayed out of the way and swiped at Agnar, and the knight growled and jumped in the air, landing on the rooftop.

"Although… I suppose we must remove this distraction first, if we are to duel properly," Agnar added, looking down at Tristan. "Would you care to do so? It has been ages since you donned your armor. Take some time to recall how it feels."

Tristan looked up at Agnar, and even though his face was covered in a helmet, J.J. could practically feel the hatred radiating from him. "You shall not wait long," Tristan hissed.

The owlbear turned its attention to Tristan as he advanced with his shield raised, and once he was in range, the Diemon swiped at Tristan with his long claws. Tristan angled his shield and easily batted the attack away, before delivering a hard kick to the monster's chest. Brent staggered backward, but Tristan pressed the assault, swinging his fist around and punching Brent across the face with a sickening crunch. He then swung his shield around and bashed Brent across the face with it, sending the monster reeling.

While Brent staggered away from him, Tristan reached down to his Driver and pressed the bull icon on the shield. A bovine bellow resounded in the air, and the upper right-hand corner of Tristan's shield briefly glowed gold before a short, flanged mace emerged from the golden light and hovered in front of him. Tristan grabbed it out of midair and gave the mace a short swing to test its heft. Like the rest of his armor, the mace was blue, but the metal seemed to be slightly darker and rougher, like the difference between steel and iron. Each of the twelve flanges of the mace was stylized to resemble a half of a kite shield, while the hilt was wrapped in white leather.

Brent charged at him again, but Tristan held his ground, raising his shield and plodding forward. He let Brent futilely smack his shield five times, relaxing his arm to absorb every attack, and once the Diemon tired slightly, he swung his mace over his shield, cracking it over Brent's skull. The owlbear staggered back, and Tristan continued to press his inexorable assault, striking him twice on each shoulder before falling back and raising his shield again.

J.J. watched in awe at how effortlessly Tristan was handling the Diemon, especially one that had already achieved Apotheosis. Every time he'd fought one, J.J. had been on his back foot, but Tristan was dealing with Brent as easily as J.J. fought lower-tier Diemons. How strong was Tristan, really?

The Diemon slunk backwards for a few more steps, then suddenly lunged forward and wrapped Tristan up in the same bear-hug that had nearly crushed J.J.'s ribs. J.J. gasped, but Tristan remained calm. With his hand near his driver, he was able to press the hedgehog icon on his shield, and a loud sound like spikes emerging from stone filled the air. Brent immediately released Tristan, acting as if he'd been stung, and J.J. quickly realized why – spikes had emerged from Tristan's shield, and had left deep gouges in the Diemon's flesh, through which fuchsia light shone.

Brent continued to backpedal, slashing at Tristan desperately as he did, but Tristan kept his guard up, blocking every attack with his spiked shield. Thus, Brent continued to do damage to himself while Tristan continued to advance patiently, and Brent eventually backed himself into a wall. Once trapped, Tristan charged forward, driving his shoulder and shield into Brent's body, impaling him again before he stepped back and let Brent slide down the wall.

J.J. was confused as to why Tristan had stopped, but as he looked closer, he could see Tristan's back heaving. Despite how he was dominating the fight, Tristan clearly wasn't in shape, and J.J. figured the heavy armor was wearing him out. Apparently, sparring with someone far below his level wasn't enough to keep Tristan in fighting form, J.J. realized, his stomach sinking even more.

The owlbear sensed the opening and tore itself away from the wall, trying to put some distance between himself and Tristan, who allowed the monster to retreat. Brent paused, spotting J.J. on the ground, and he immediately charged at the prone figure. J.J. swore under his breath and gripped his sword as he tried to rise to his feet. Before he could, however, Tristan charged across the battlefield, his footsteps ringing like hammers, and he body-checked Brent with his shield, sending the Diemon sprawling across the ground. Tristan stood in front of J.J. with his shield up and his mace cocked back to prepare for a counterattack. "My apologies, page," Tristan said tersely.

"It's fine," J.J. winced, touching the bloody gash across his chest. "I'm the one who should be apologizing for putting us in this position."

"Worry not. I shall resolve this immediately," Tristan assured him. As Brent stood up, Tristan addressed the Diemon. "I apologize for what I must do. I do not wish to take your life, but I have no other alternative. I shall pray for you this evening, as I do for all I have been forced to slay."

Tristan was about to push the bull icon again, but then seemed to think better of it and instead gave the central D-former another spin, as if testing a theory. The Driver shouted, **"Critical!"** in a brassier voice than J.J.'s own, and a steel-blue die encased the knight for a moment before coalescing in front of him in a shimmering holographic turquoise shield. Tristan crouched low and got a running start before leaping into the air with a grunt. The owlbear swiped at him when he got in range, but its claw bounced off the shield in front of Tristan as he brought his foot in front of him in a flying straight kick. The shield impacted Brent first, and then the force of Tristan's kick drove it into Brent's body. Fuchsia lines began to spread across Brent's body from the point of impact. Tristan kicked off his chest and landed heavily on the ground in front of him. Brent looked up, terror shining in his glowing eyes as Tristan held his mace in front of his face in a solemn salute. Moments later, the cracks of light consumed him.

As the Diemon's body dissolved in a collection of fractals and collapsed in a pile of ash, Agnar jumped down from the roof before either Tristan or J.J. could react, picking up both the glowing fuchsia gemstone and the stat page resting on top of the mound of dust. He put the D-former in a pouch on his belt before tearing the stat sheet mercilessly in half while J.J. cried out in protest. Agnar ignored him and instead focused his attention on Tristan.

"It would seem your skills are still formidable, Sir Tristan," Agnar commented, giving him a nod of approval. "I would expect no less from one of the greatest knights of Almencia."

"Almencia is gone, Sir Agnar," Tristan said coldly. "And this world has no more need of knights. This is an era of a new warrior. I stand before you not as Sir Tristan, Knight of Almencia, but as a Kamen Rider. Kamen Rider… Aegis," Tristan said, tilting his head as if thinking over the name before nodding in satisfaction.

"Indeed?" Agnar chuckled. "If that is so, then I suppose I should assume a new title as well. I suppose that a fitting one for me, then, would be… Kamen Rider Dracon."

"Call yourself what you wish, Sir Agnar," Tristan growled, bringing his shield up and cocking his mace over his shoulder. "You shall not hold any title for much longer."

"Very well. If you still wish to duel, I shall acquiesce," Agnar sighed, bringing his greatsword up in a ready stance. As the two knights stared each other down, J.J. finally managed to get to his feet.

"Come on… work!" J.J. hissed as he gave the amber D-former another spin. **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted, and J.J. grinned weakly in triumph as the amber die surrounded him and trumpets played while his body was once more covered in brown leather armor. He staggered over to the two knights as the spinning stopped, gripping his sword limply, and he stood beside Tristan, holding his sword out in a shaky fencing stance. Tristan glanced at him, and even Agnar paused.

"What are you doing? Stand aside, peasant," Agnar said dismissively.

"You… can't have a duel if someone… is interfering, right?" J.J. panted. The blood loss was making him woozy, but he managed to stay on his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. "No… honor in that… right?"

"You are hardly interfering, boy. You can barely stand," Agnar pointed out. "I can dispatch you in mere moments, if you so desire death."

"Page, you should rest," Tristan agreed softly.

"This… isn't how you want this… to go down, is it?" J.J. asked, looking between the pair. "You want… a real duel. Besides… you got what you wanted, right?" J.J. added, nodding to the D-former. "No one else… needs to die today. Plus, you want to fight… Tristan at his best. Hardly seems honorable… fighting him after he's just had to fight a Diemon."

Agnar hesitated, looking between the pair, before sighing and straightening up. "…Very well. Your words bear surprising wisdom," he admitted. "I shall take my leave for now. You should tend to your squire, Sir Tristan," Agnar added. "He will perish shortly if you do not see to his wounds."

"He's not my squire. He's a page," Tristan said, but he relaxed his stance. J.J. shot him a dirty look under his helmet.

"Hate you… so much," J.J. muttered. Tristan chuckled in reply, before turning back to Agnar.

"Should we meet again, I will show no quarter, Sir Aganr," Tristan said quietly. "You slew one of my kin, and I shall accept no wergild as compensation. This will only end in blood."

"If that is your desire, I shall cross blades with you when we meet next, old friend," Agnar replied, bringing his blade up in a short salute to Tristan. "Farewell until then."

With that, the red knight turned and departed as Tristan sighed and pulled the blue D-former out of his belt. "I do not approve of your interference, page," Tristan admonished him as his suit dissipated in a shower of light blue fractals. "And you were a fool to come here. But I applaud your conviction."

"Glad I get… an award… for trying," J.J. gasped as his vision swam. His suit suddenly shattered in a snow of amber fragments, and he pitched forward. Tristan quickly grabbed him before he hit the pavement. J.J. looked up and became vaguely aware of sirens approaching.

"Ah… let us see you to a healer," Tristan added with a slight chuckle, slinging J.J.'s arm over his shoulder. J.J. was too weak to respond, simply letting Tristan drag him towards one of the ambulances as his consciousness threatened to fade.

* * *

Hours later, J.J. was wrapped in so many bandages that he could barely move. The gash across his chest and the deep cut in his shoulder were particularly painful, since he couldn't even breathe without aggravating either wound. Thankfully, the doctor that attended to him hadn't asked any questions and simply treated his wounds.

He had been ordered to go home and rest, but J.J. insisted on driving back to Susumu's place to tell the mechanic the good news and to keep Gwen from worrying, once he'd gotten a text that she was also at the garage. As they pulled up, Gwen and Susumu were waiting anxiously for them, with the former pushing herself out of her lawn chair and sprinting across the lawn to meet them as soon as they pulled up. She threw her arms around J.J., who let out a pained gasp.

"Ow ow ow! Easy!" J.J. said, gently disentangling her from him. Gwen winced apologetically, before lifting his shirt up to inspect his bandages.

"You got torn up," she commented, scowling up at J.J. "How are you still walking?"

"Lots of painkillers, several stitches, and sheer will," J.J. replied with a weak grin. "The doctors say I'll live, but they want to see me tomorrow. I should be at home resting."

"Yeah, you should," Susumu agreed. "I'm confiscating your bike until you're healed. Gwen, you can drive him home, right?"

"Of course. I'll stay with him until then." Gwen agreed. "Just to make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid."

"Hey, I didn't have a choice!" J.J. protested. "It was either fight Agnar or let more people get hurt by that Diemon. I'm just… sorry I couldn't save him," he said sadly.

There was a moment of silence, broken by another voice. "Thankfully, you now have a choice," Tristan replied as he walked over to the group. "Now you no longer need fight this war alone."

Susumu and Gwen looked up at him, and a smile spread across Susumu's lips. "I take it the Driver worked, then?" he asked.

"It… did require that I utilize the D-former," Tristan admitted, pulling his shield out of his jeans and looking it over. "Yet I feel no ill effects from its use. Perhaps I was indeed worrying for naught."

"Well, that's a relief," Susumu said. "How'd the first fight go?"

"He… dominated," J.J. said slowly. "The Diemon reached Apotheosis, but Tristan beat it down like it was nothing."

"Really?" Susumu asked. "That's excellent, then. Now we have another Kamen Rider backing you up, J.J.," he added, before grinning at Tristan. "Or did you take a Kamen Rider name?"

"Kamen Rider Aegis," Tristan smiled.

"Sweet! And since you're just working part-time here anyways, you can be more active than J.J. He can finally take a bit of a break while you patrol. I mean, I'm the one paying you and housing you, so I can decide when I need you to work and when you're free to fight Diemons. We finally have a full-time Kamen Rider," Susumu enthused.

As the two continued to talk, J.J. smiled faintly and looked down at the ground. Gwen noticed his bittersweet expression and tilted her head to peer into his eyes. "You okay there?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, no, this is great," J.J. replied. "Like they said, Tristan can handle it now."

Yet that thought also caused a wave of emotion to wash over him. Tristan was far stronger than he was, that was clear. Plus, he had much more free time to spend fighting Diemons. If that was the case… was J.J. even needed anymore?

Idly, J.J. slipped his free hand into his pocket, running his fingers over his diary. Something caught his attention, however – was there always a groove in that spot? Frowning, he gently disentangled himself from Gwen and pulled his diary out. As he gazed at the front cover, his eyes widened with horror and shock. A deep crack was running down the center of his D-former, splitting it almost in half. Had it been damaged in the last fight without him realizing?

"What is it?" Gwen asked, noticing J.J.'s expression.

"Nothing!" J.J. said quickly, pocketing the diary again. "Just looking something over. Come on. We should celebrate Tristan getting his armor back."

"Good idea!" Susumu agreed. "I'll see about ordering us some pizza. Then you should go home and rest."

J.J. nodded, forcing his worries out of his mind. Gwen continued to watch him suspiciously, but he gave her a reassuring smile. When she turned her back to him, however, his mask dropped again, and he was unable to keep the concern off his face. The damage to his D-former was obviously getting worse. How much more could it take… and what would happen if it finally broke?


	22. Session 22

**Session 22**

 _Kelsie hovered in front of him as he gripped his sword, every muscle in his body taut as he stared her down. She gazed at him silently as he began to run at her slowly, as if moving through water. The amber die around him spun slowly, giving everything around him a toffee tint. He leapt into the air, beginning to spin… yet while his body rotated, he somehow kept her in his line of sight. He swung his leg around in slow motion and delivered a kick to her flank that felt as if it might tear clean through her body._

 _Kelsie remained still as the blow connected, and J.J. landed behind her, before turning around to face her. Above her head, he could see her health bar drain to nothing, and his heart clenched with fear. A moment later, amber cracks spread across her body, consuming her, before shattering all at once. Her Pegasus form faded, leaving her standing in front of him with a sad smile on her face._

 _For a moment, hope swelled in his chest. Was she really alive this time? Had he finally managed to save her? As he watched, however, that hope quickly vanished as amber cracks began spreading across her human body as well. That same sad smile lingered on her lips as she looked up at him and whispered, "I'm sorry." Then, with the sound of shattering glass ringing in his ears, her body fractured and fell to the ground in thousands of tiny pieces._

J.J.'s eyes snapped open, and he inhaled sharply to stave off the panic rising in his chest. He glanced around quickly to try and get his bearings, and only once he realized where he was did he relax. He was reclining on one of Susumu's lawn chairs, with his laptop open on his chest, a half-finished chapter on the screen, with the text cursor blinking patiently, waiting for his next sentence. He was drenched in sweat, partially from the heat of the computer, but mostly from the all-too-familiar nightmare. He was amazed he hadn't thrown the laptop to the ground; usually when he had that dream, he tended to thrash around. Silver linings, he thought wryly.

"Dammit, brain," he murmured to himself, rubbing his eyes. "I really don't need more nightmares. _Especially_ today."

With a groan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and yawned before glancing to his right. Susumu and Tristan were huddled together several feet away, muttering to each other as they worked on Tristan's new motorcycle. Susumu was kneeling beside the bike, giving directions to the knight, who was doing most of the hard labor, tightening bolts and turning parts when instructed.

The bike in question was modified from an old police cruiser, stripped of all law enforcement symbols and painted the same bright metallic blue as Tristan's armor. It was larger and sturdier than J.J.'s own Baycycle, and better suited to bearing Tristan's heavy steel armor. For the past few days, Susumu had been playing around with the design, crafting small shields to match the motif of Tristan's armor, as well as providing the bike with a bit more protection. While Susumu regretted that he couldn't get his hands on more Azuron, he stated that the substitute metal he was using was lightweight and durable enough to provide excellent protection.

J.J. glanced down at his laptop and briefly considered writing some more, but then he sighed and snapped the laptop closed before hauling himself up with a grunt and strolling over to the pair. Susumu glanced up briefly from where he was tightening a bolt to nod at him.

"Feeling better?" Susumu asked.

"Groggy," J.J. muttered, stifling a yawn. "I'm not really one for naps. Especially on a lawn chair. I'm pretty sure my back looks like I've been lying on a grill, too. How come you didn't wake me?"

"Gwen said you haven't been sleeping much, so I figured I'd let you get some rest while you had the chance," Susumu replied. "Now that you actually _can_ get some rest, with another Kamen Rider backing you up."

"Mmhm," J.J. replied non-committally, glancing over at the bike. "So, has Tristan learned how to ride this thing yet?"

"It is… a skill that I am in the process of mastering," Tristan replied slowly.

"I'm surprised you're this enthusiastic about having a bike, though," J.J. commented. "You've been working with Susumu on this almost non-stop for, what, four days now?"

"I am a knight," Tristan replied simply. "If a knight does not possess a steed, he is simply another warrior."

"And a Kamen Rider should have a motorcycle," Susumu added with a slight grin. "Or… at least a vehicle of some sort."

"Teach him to drive a car, then," J.J. suggested. "It's safer."

"I don't have any custom models, and I can't really see a Kamen Rider speeding off to fight crime in an old junky sedan from the nineties," Susumu said, before grinning slightly at the thought. "Besides, a bike is better to have on patrols anyways. It's more maneuverable and you can get off it more quickly if you need to start fighting."

"Yeah… though it's not as if anything has attacked in a while anyways," J.J. pointed out. "No Diemons, not even any Shards, thankfully. And there hasn't been any sign of Agnar either, has there?"

"No," Tristan agreed, speaking the word in a low growl. J.J. held up his hand to calm the knight. Clearly, his former companion was still a sore spot.

"Sorry," J.J. said. "Just makes me wonder if the Black Seraph isn't holding his cards a bit closer to his chest now that you're an active player again. What I'm curious about is if Agnar might be hunting underground again."

"Possibly," Tristan said shortly.

"So… then how come you're not going after him?" J.J. asked hesitantly. "I would've thought that, after you declared a blood feud, you'd be looking to pick a fight with him at the first opportunity. Not that I mind that you aren't, of course," he added quickly. "Last thing I need is you getting yourself killed right after you've suited up again. I'm just surprised you're not trying to take the fight to him."

"While a good offense is a sound strategy, in this case it would be folly," Tristan replied. "For one, I am uncertain of Sir Agnars whereabouts, and the ruins beneath this city are vast. Without a clear heading, there is no point in traversing unfamiliar territory, especially if there is the possibility that Sir Agnar knows it far better than I, and has had the opportunity to set ambushes and traps in the event that I pursue him."

"Well… point," J.J. said slowly.

"Furthermore," Tristan continued, smiling faintly at J.J. to assure him he was just explaining, while keeping his tone from sounding condescending, "The only thing we truly know about the Black Seraph's plans is that he requires the D-formers for something. It may in fact be the restoration of Almencia, but I am disinclined to blindly believe the Black Seraph's proclamations. Nevertheless, if the D-formers are his goal, then for the moment the most rational course of action is to prevent him from gathering them. Thus, I intend to assist you in fighting the Diemons as they appear, and to that end, our actions must remain reactionary, at least for the time being."

"Yeah… alright, I gotcha," J.J. admitted, smiling sheepishly.

"There will be time enough for vengeance when the hour is right," Tristan said, looking away pensively. "I have challenged Sir Agnar on a matter of honor, and he will meet my demands in due time. He shall not flee, for to do so would be to sully his own honor. Furthermore, so long as the Black Seraph is his master and his master's business is in Marville, Sir Agnar shall remain here as well. Thus, I am in no hurry to join battle with him. So long as I stay this course, if we meet in battle again, it will most likely be on neutral ground, which is about as advantageous a position as I could hope for."

"I don't think I've ever heard someone discuss fighting to the death so calmly," J.J. said, raising an eyebrow.

"In all things, even vengeance, he who allows his anger to dictate his actions shall perish," Tristan said softly. "My fury has not abated, but I remain in control of it. In the meantime, it is important to dedicate myself to a reacting to any threats the Black Seraph presents to us."

J.J. nodded, an impressed look on his face. A moment later, a buzzing in his pocket caught his attention, and he let out a soft sigh.

"And just like that, you went and jinxed, it," J.J. commented, reaching into his pocket automatically and feeling around for his diary. He pulled it out and scowled, but then blinked as he realized his diary wasn't buzzing. A sheepish grin spread across his face as he realized that it was his phone buzzing instead. Susumu smirked at J.J. as he realized this, and even Tristan chuckled softly.

"Little jumpy there, J.J.?" Susumu teased him. "All ready for another fight?"

"No, I-" J.J. stammered.

"I was unaware that you had encountered another Diemon without informing us," Tristan chimed in, grinning. "Or has Devon's diary developed prescience? Can it now warn us of Diemon attacks before they occur?"

"You both suck," J.J. muttered, moving to put the diary back in his pocket and pull his phone out instead. Before he could, however, Tristan's grin faded, and he suddenly took two long steps and grabbed J.J. by the wrist.

"Hey!" J.J. protested, trying to wrench his hand out of the knight's grasp. "What're you-?"

"Page… how did your D-former suffer such extensive damage?" Tristan asked softly, narrowing his eyes at the long crack running along the center of J.J.'s amber jewel.

"What?" Susumu asked, limping quickly over to take a look as well. J.J. scowled and pulled his wrist out of Tristan's hand.

"I don't know how or when it happened," J.J. said simply, glancing away. "It's been like that for about a week now."

"And you didn't tell us?" Susumu asked.

"It's not like I was trying to hide it because I didn't want to worry you or something stupid like that," J.J. assured him, opening the diary with a sigh. "Rather, it's not like there's anything that can be done about it. Even if I told you the D-former was damaged, there's nothing we can do to fix it, so there's no _point_ in spending time worrying about it."

"We still would appreciate being informed," Tristan pointed out. "If this proves to be a liability in combat…."

J.J. rolled his eyes, then glanced down at the diary. "Hey, Quill? Aside from the fact that the D-former has a crack, is anything broken?"

His pen flew out of the diary and quickly scribbled on a blank page, _"Suit integrity is optimal, and no damage has been sustained by this diary. Everything remains perfectly functional."_

"See?" J.J. said, nodding in thanks to the pen before snapping the book shut. "I'm treating it like having a slightly cracked phone screen. Sure, it's annoying, but so long as everything still works, I don't see the point in trying to get a new phone. So, can you two quit hovering?"

Susumu and Tristan traded looks, but both stepped back as J.J. slipped the diary back into his pocket with an annoyed sigh before reaching into his other pocket and pulling out his phone to check the missed call. When he saw it was Agni's number, he quickly redialed his agent, and once Agni picked up, he explained quickly, "Hey, Agni. Sorry I missed your call. I grabbed the wrong thing. What's up?"

"Got some good news for you, J.J.," Agni replied, his tone rather light. "Do you think you could swing by Gary's tavern? I might buy you a drink for this one."

"It's… two in the afternoon," J.J. pointed out. "And I don't drink much anyways. But you've got me curious, so sure. Give me a few minutes to head over there."

As J.J. hung up, Susumu tilted his head, and J.J. said simply, "Agni wanted to talk."

"Ah. Sure," Susumu said slowly. "We're gonna be here for a while anyways, so go on ahead."

"Right. If I run into anything while I'm out, I'll let you know," J.J. assured them as he walked over to his bike.

"Page… look after yourself," Tristan said.

"Hey, Agni said he had good news for once," J.J. said with a slight smile. "And I could really use some right now."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tristan and Susumu staring at his back with identical looks of concern as he spun his bike around and drove away from the garage.

* * *

A short drive later, J.J. pulled into the parking lot of Gary's tavern and hopped off his bike before making his way inside. Gary glanced up from the bar as he walked in, his features lighting up.

"The conquering hero has returned from his long journey! It hath been years since we last reveled in his presence! I shall fetch my finest wine and demand you regale me with tales of your travels!" Gary quipped, walking over and cuffing him lightly upside the head.

"Every once in a while, I deign to walk among the peasantry," J.J. replied coolly. "Sorry, just been having a bit of a rough time lately, and today's been especially hard."

"Yeah," Gary said, his smile faltering. "Given what's going on today, that makes sense. You want something to drink? It's on the house."

"Seriously, everyone's trying to get me drunk today," J.J. commented lightly. "Just a coke, if you don't mind."

"Everyone?" Gary echoed, walking back behind the bar.

J.J. was about to respond when the door opened again and Agni stepped in, wearing a crisp business suit and a broad grin.

"Speak of the devil," J.J. said.

"Oh? I hope whatever you were saying about me was flattering," Agni said, slipping into the seat across from him.

"If I told you it was, would you believe me?" J.J. teased him, smiling faintly.

"Probably not," Agni replied evenly, grinning in reply. "Can I get a stout, Gary?"

"Only if you take that jacket off," Gary called over. "I don't need my customers worrying that the health inspector just showed up."

"So, what'd you want to talk about?" J.J. asked as Gary walked over to them with two tankards.

"Well, I just got out of a meeting with Ms. Chambers. She's the publisher that I introduced you to, if you remember?" Agni asked.

"Of course," J.J. said, feeling a flicker of hope spark in his chest.

"I mailed her in those chapters you sent me last week. She was really impressed by how much more you wrote in the past couple weeks," Agni commented.

J.J. smiled weakly, glancing away. He didn't bother mentioning that writing so much had just been a way of coping with Kelsie's loss. "I'm… glad that she was impressed by my enthusiasm," J.J. said uneasily.

"It's not just how much you've been writing, though," Agni continued, folding his hands. "Even though what you sent in was just a draft, she was surprised by its quality. It's head and shoulders above anything you've written before. You've finally gotten the hang of putting the reader in the shoes of your protagonist."

"Well… I was just trying to think how I'd act in real life in those situations. Especially the battle scenes," J.J. admitted.

"Yeah, and you'd know better than anyone what it's like to be fighting for your life, wouldn't you?" Agni agreed, lowering his voice. "Smart move, drawing on your experience fighting Diemons."

"Thanks," J.J. replied, before tilting his head. "Still, while I appreciate the praise, you could've told me all this over the phone."

"True, I could've, but I wanted to give you this in person," Agni replied, reaching into his jacket. He pulled out a small envelope and pushed it across the table to J.J., who raised an eyebrow as he picked it up and opened it. Inside was a check, and his eyes widened as he saw the amount. Agni grinned broadly at his reaction.

"All this for a draft?" J.J. asked slowly.

"It's also meant to be an incentive to keep working hard," Agni replied, settling back in his chair. "Ms. Chambers thinks this book has the potential to be a hit, if you keep working at it."

"I… don't know what to say. This is more than generous," J.J. stammered.

"Hey, you earned it," Agni shrugged. "Though that also raises an issue – how much time are you going to be able to devote to your novel? I'm one of the few who knows what you're up against, and how much time you have to devote to… other activities. These past few weeks of relative peace have been flukes, haven't they? With everything that you have on your plate, are you going to be able to keep up this pace, or are you going to get burnt out?"

J.J.'s delight cooled slightly, and he set the check down with a sigh. "I'd… like nothing more than to put everything aside and just work on my writing," he admitted. "And Tristan did recently become a Kamen Rider himself, which takes a lot of the pressure off me. But it's not like I can just up and quit fighting, can I?"

"Probably not," Agni agreed, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm not trying to discourage you, of course. I'm just worried about you trying to juggle everything."

"Yeah. I'll manage, though," J.J. sighed, before smiling and straightening up. "Still, I really appreciate this. This is the first good news I've had in weeks, honestly. Your timing was perfect, too. I really needed a pick-me-up today."

Agni frowned faintly, tilting his head. "Why? Is something going on?"

Before J.J. could answer, the door to the tavern opened again, and Ryan and Abby walked in, both wearing black formal clothes and somber expressions. Ryan was the first to spot J.J. and Agni, the former of whom waved at them.

"Hey," J.J. said, suppressing the sinking feeling in his stomach as the pair walked over. "How was it?"

"Long. Boring," Ryan said, pulling up a chair with a sigh as he began to loosen the tie around his neck. Abby scowled and elbowed him in the stomach as Agni glanced between the trio, wearing a confused expression.

"How was what?" Agni asked.

"Kelsie's funeral," J.J. replied softly, looking away.

Agni's eyes widened, and he coughed, looking away uncomfortably. "Oh. That… was today?" he asked.

"Yeah. Anyone in our school who wanted to go was given the day off," Abby said, sighing as she pulled a mirror out of her purse and checked her heavily-applied eyeliner.

Agni nodded, then frowned suspiciously and turned to stare at J.J. "Wait… then why the hell didn't you go?" he asked accusingly.

J.J. let out a short, bitter laugh, turning back to face Agni with a sardonic smile. "Please. Do you think Kelsie's mother would let me attend? She swore that if she saw me within a five-mile radius of the cemetery, she would call the cops on me."

"That… yeah, I can see that, given what you've told me about her," Agni said uncomfortably.

"Anyways, everything go okay?" J.J. asked softly.

"It was pretty standard. They had a wake and then buried her ashes. More people showed up than I expected, though," Abby said, snapping her mirror shut. "I was asking around about that. A lot of them were there because they'd heard she died in a Diemon attack, and _that's_ a tragedy to them. I also think they're scared it could happen to them next."

"I see. Wasn't Gwen with you?" J.J. added, tilting his head.

"She left ahead of us. Said she was planning something for you," Ryan shrugged. "And something else…."  
"That we shouldn't tell him," Abby growled.

"Right! That!" Ryan said cheerfully.

"Good job, Ryan," J.J. said sarcastically, suppressing his disappointment. He'd been hoping to see her after the funeral so he could talk with her. Shrugging, he added, "In any case, I'm glad you guys were there at least."

"Are you alright?" Agni asked.

"No. But it's not like anything can be done about it," J.J. replied.

"If it'd make you feel better, why don't you just try talking to Kelsie?" Ryan suggested.

"What, her tombstone? Ah… I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet," J.J. said. "Especially since I imagine Karen's going to be guarding the cemetery like a hawk for a while."

"No, I mean you could literally talk to her. Like, have a conversation with her," Ryan said. The other three stared at him.

"What're you talking about?" Agni asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

"Take a look at this. This dude was on the town news last week," Ryan said, pulling out his phone and flipping through it. Moments later, he pulled up a video of a middle-aged man surrounded by a crowd of people watching him expectantly.

"Now, who here has lost a loved one, hm?" the man asked. "I'm sensing… you here, in the front row," he added, pointing to a young woman.

"Ah… yes, my mother died a few months ago," the girl replied sadly.

J.J. stared at the phone, before looking up, unimpressed. "Cold reading," J.J. said simply. "He's asking them leading questions and letting them fill in the blanks. It's a classic con artist technique. You want me to talk to _this_ guy? 'Cause I'm not paying someone to scam me."

"Shh. Keep watching," Ryan insisted.

"What was your mother's name?" the man asked.

"Cynthia Andrews," the woman replied, barely able to hold back her tears. "She had…."

"Blond hair, blue eyes? Wrinkles under her face?" the man asked. The woman's eyes widened in shock, and murmurs ran through the crowd.

"How did you…?" she stammered.

"…Okay, and he set someone up in the crowd with pre-written lines," J.J. added, tilting his head. Despite his cynicism, he was getting curious.

"Well, what if I told you that I can let you speak to your mother for a few minutes here?" the man asked, grinning. He stepped away from her, closing his eyes and holding his hands out. There was a flash of violet light, and a moment later, the spectral figure of a woman in her sixties stood in front of the crowd, her hands folded in front of her and a sad smile on her face. The young woman let out a terrified shriek as the crowd began murmuring loudly.

"Hello, Audrey," the specter said. "It's good to see you again."

"Mom?!" the woman sobbed.

"I don't have long, my dear. I just wanted to let you know that I'm proud of you."

"I… how did you…?" the girl stammered.

"Hush, love. Go pursue your dreams and stop worrying about me. I'll always be with you," the ghost said, giving the girl a soft wave before vanishing. The crowd began to chatter in an increasing uproar, and the video abruptly ended, with Ryan grinning over the edge of his phone.

"Well… if that wasn't done with special effects, that's something to look into," J.J. said gravely. "How long has this guy been doing this?"

"I think he's been a psychic for a couple years now," Ryan said.

"And he's always had astral projections?" J.J. asked skeptically.

"Oh, that? No, that's apparently a new thing in his shows," Ryan said.

"And… you didn't think to show this to me sooner?" J.J. scowled. "It didn't cross your mind that this guy might have a D-former?"

"Hey, I only found out about this yesterday!" Ryan protested.

"So… Diemon, then?" Abby asked.

"Possibly," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes. "If nothing else, it doesn't hurt to go check this guy's show out. Is there any way to get tickets?"

"Online," Ryan said simply. "But… let's see… yeah, he's actually holding a show right now, though it just started. If you leave now, you can probably catch the end of it."

"Alright, I'll see about grabbing Tristan," J.J. said. "Thanks for the tip, Ryan."

"Are you sure you're gonna be alright, though?" Abby asked softly. "Today must've been hard for you. Is fighting a Diemon really the best thing for you right now?"

"It'll at least take my mind off things," J.J. said, not really answering the question. Before the trio of former Diemons could press him further, he jogged out the door.

* * *

"I must say, I am fascinated that our quarry could potentially possess sorcerous abilities," Tristan commented over the roar of J.J.'s bike. The Mashielder wasn't quite ready to be ridden yet, so J.J. had swung by Susumu's garage on his Bay-cycle to explain the situation and pick up Tristan. That had been ten minutes ago, and by this point they had almost reached the auditorium where the show was being hosted.

"He doesn't," J.J. said simply. "At best, he's a con artist who's really good at sleight of hand and might have some sort of advanced holographic projector. At worst, he's using Diemon powers. Either way, it's nothing we haven't seen before."

"What is a holographic?" Tristan asked.

"…It's nothing _I_ haven't seen before," J.J. amended himself. He glanced over his shoulder at his companion and raised an eyebrow. "You're in a good mood. You were almost skipping when I told you we might have to deal with a Diemon."

"It is… a relief to know that I can contribute to the war once again," Tristan explained, glancing away. "I must admit, there were instances when I felt guilty that the burden of fighting rested entirely on your shoulders, page. Furthermore, I regretted being unable to aid those that were harmed in situations where, were I properly equipped, I could have prevented their suffering. No longer do those thoughts plague me. But please do not mistake my enthusiasm for joy at the prospect of combat."

"No… I get it," J.J. assured him. "Feeling that helpless must've been hard on you."

"To say the least," Tristan nodded, falling silent for the remainder of the drive.

J.J. pulled into the parking lot of the theater complex and pulled off his helmet, with Tristan following suit as they dismounted. The complex was a popular destination in Marville, as it was where almost every stage-based production took place. Plays and concerts were often held on the outdoor stage when the weather was nice, while the main building housed a large auditorium that seated hundreds, and many artists and singers and bands fought for weeks to book events at the venue. The fact that this so-called medium had managed to get a timeslot so quickly spoke volumes about how popular his act had become, despite how new it was.

J.J. and Tristan walked up to the ticket counter, with J.J. feeling a touch of apprehension at a potential snag in their plan – if there were no more seats, he really didn't want to have to break into the theater to confront this man. Thankfully, the show wasn't sold-out, but the ticket seller warned them that they were practically wasting their money, as the show was almost over. Nevertheless, he accepted J.J.'s credit card, and the pair quickly made their way into the theater, where the final act was already taking place.

A young man was up on stage beside the medium, who was pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. J.J. and Tristan took seats near the back of the auditorium, which was about three-quarters full of audience members watching the spectacle intently. The medium's voice was being projected through speakers that resounded throughout the hall.

"-you said your brother's name was Terrance, yes? What was his last name?" the medium asked.

"Bell," the young man replied, looking uncomfortable under the medium's gaze. "Though I'm not sure if I want to see him…."

"It'll be alright. You have nothing to fear while I'm with you," the medium said soothingly. "Now, let me see if I can contact him…."

J.J. began glancing around, looking for any signs of hidden projectors or anything that might betray the illusion. Of course, he wasn't trained in magic in the first place, and such tools would be cleverly hidden from those that _were_ familiar with creating illusions, but he still wanted some idea of how the medium was performing his tricks. Yet, just as he expected, he was unable to find anything to explain how the ghostly figure of a man in his early twenties suddenly flickered to life on stage. The crowd began murmuring as the figure held his hand out accusingly towards his brother.

"You… you did this to me…." a harsh, ragged voice rasped.

"No!" the man on stage whimpered, shrinking away from the specter. "I didn't! I was just a kid! I didn't mean to…!"

"I'm going to expose you, you little bastard!" the ghost growled. "You won't-!"

"That's enough!" the medium barked suddenly, causing the ghost to round on him. "You've haunted your brother long enough. Begone!"

With a wave of his hand, the ghost let out a rattling scream, and then in a flash of violet light, he disappeared. The crowd began applauding uncomfortably while the medium put a hand on the man's shoulder, speaking in a soft voice.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said soothingly. "But rest assured, you no longer have anything to fear. He won't haunt you anymore. Please, return to your seat, and know that tonight, you'll sleep far more soundly than you have in years."

"I… thank you," the man murmured, his head bowed as he jumped off the stage and took his seat in the front row. Even though he was on the other end of the theater, J.J. could see he was trembling.

"And with that, our journey through the spirit world has come to an end," the medium announced. "Thank you all for coming out here. And remember – spirits are everywhere, and we only need to listen carefully if we want to hear what they have to say. Have a good afternoon!"

People began standing up and filing out, muttering to each other, while J.J. and Tristan traded looks.

"Do you have an explanation for what we witnessed?" Tristan asked.

"No. Of course, I'm not a magician, so I can't even explain a simple card trick," J.J. admitted. "But that _was_ a really convincing ghost. I think we should go have a chat with him about how he did that."

"Agreed. Let us wait until the crowd has dispersed," Tristan suggested.

Thankfully, the crowd quickly established a precedent for approaching the medium, as a few people lingered by the edge of the stage to speak with him. The man seemed friendly enough, taking time to answer any questions they had, and even laughing at a few of the conversations he was having. If nothing else, he was charismatic and personable, J.J. thought to himself. He wondered if those traits made it easier to hoodwink people into trusting him.

J.J. and Tristan slipped into the back of the line to ensure that they were last to speak with him, and when the old woman in front of them finally stopped talking and turned to leave, they approached. The man's sky-blue eyes fell on them, and a warm smile crossed his lips.

"Ah! You two came in right at the end, didn't you?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the stage. "I'm sorry you only caught the tail end of my performance."

"Well, that's why we're here," J.J. admitted, matching the man's smile with one of his own. "We were hoping we could make up with that by stealing a bit of your time, if you're not too busy?"

"Sure! I'd like to make sure you get your money's worth, at least," the man replied, holding his hand out. "Lawrence Frederick, at your service. Though I prefer the nickname 'Shadespeaker.' More mysterious, don't you think? And you two are?"

"J.J., and this is Tristan," J.J. replied quickly. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you been doing this, and what got you into this business?"

"Oh, I've been doing this for… almost fifteen years now," Lawrence replied, looking up at the ceiling with a sad smile on his lips. "After my parents passed away in a plane crash, I desperately searched for some way to get in contact with them. I just… wanted to speak with them one more time. I went to mediums, oracles, fortune tellers, anyone who might provide me with a way to speak to the dead. I apprenticed myself out to them, and learned to open my mind to the spirit realm. It took years of training, but I finally learned to listen to the words of the dead and convey them to the living. It's a secret technique, but I feel that it's my duty to share the thoughts of the dead with the living, to serve as a bridge between our world and the underworld."

"Fascinating," Tristan said softly, an enraptured look on his face.

"Uh-huh," J.J. said skeptically, narrowing his eyes. He wasn't being arbitrarily skeptical; after everything he'd dealt with regarding Almencia, he was willing to believe ghosts, vampires, and every other fairy tale might also exist. However, he was very suspicious about how this particular man operated. "And you've always been able to summon them into the living world, then?"

"Well… no," Lawrence admitted. "I only recently attained the ability to manifest the spirits of the dead in the living world.

"How do you do it?" J.J. asked bluntly.

"Ah, come on now!" Lawrence laughed, though his expression was uneasy. "You wouldn't ask a magician how he performs his tricks, would you?"

"No, I totally would," J.J. replied, shrugging. "I'm rather fascinated by all the behind-the-scenes stuff."

"Well… it doesn't matter, does it?" Lawrence asked. "I'm giving these people hope. They get to speak to deceased family members again, if only for a few seconds. Isn't that wonderful?"

"I'd fully agree, if you weren't charging admission for it," J.J. retorted. "Not very altruistic of you to demand people pay at the door for the privilege of talking to their loved ones."

"Uh… tell me, do you have any hobbies?" Lawrence stammered.

"Sure. I'm a writer," J.J. replied.

"Ah! See!" Lawrence crowed, grinning triumphantly. "How're you going to chastise me for charging people when you do the same thing? We're both entertainers, and we deserve to be paid for our services, don't we?"

J.J. grimaced. From that angle, Lawrence had a point. However, J.J. shook his head after thinking about it for a moment. "The difference is that the stories I create are entirely my own," J.J. replied. "I'm not tricking people out of their money the way you are."

"I'm not tricking anyone!" Lawrence protested.

"Really? Then tell me how you're summoning the dead. If you're not conning people, you shouldn't have any problems explaining the process, right?" J.J. pressed.

"I already told you, I'm not going to reveal my secrets! This conversation is over! Please leave so that I can clean up and head home! Summoning spirits leaves me very tired," Lawrence insisted.

"Or you could just admit that you've been talking to the Black Seraph," J.J. snapped. "Really, that'd make this all a lot simpler."

"Wh… how did you… I mean, no!" Lawrence cried, standing up and turning to leave. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Temper, Page," Tristan warned in a soft voice. "Normally you are far more sympathetic towards those that have been corrupted by D-formers."

J.J. blinked as Tristan pointed this out, and he took a deep breath. "Sorry," he said contritely. "This is just reminding me a lot of that ice sculptor. You know how I feel about people cheating others out of their money. That's what this guy is doing."

"Your irritation is not unfounded," Tristan said soothingly. "However, antagonism will not resolve this situation peacefully if that is your intention."

"Right," J.J. agreed, forcing himself to calm down. "Look, Lawrence, I'm sorry if it sounded like I was accusing you of being a fraud," he said, addressing the medium once again. "I'm sure you get that a lot, and you must be sick of it. But you can understand why I'm skeptical about your ability to summon spirits. Can you give us a private demonstration, at least? I'd be happy to admit I was wrong if you can prove your powers are real."

Lawrence glowered at J.J., but sighed and nodded. "Fine. Give me the name of someone who's dead."

"Abraham Lincoln," J.J. said immediately, struggling to keep the derision out of his voice.

Lawrence stared at him, but then shrugged and closed his eyes, holding his hands out. "I call upon the spirit of the sixteenth president of the United States. Mr. Lincoln, come forth and share your wisdom with us!"

J.J. watched Lawrence carefully, scanning his body for any sign of a D-former activating. For a moment, nothing happened, but then there was a flash of violet light and the tall figure of President Lincoln dressed in his iconic clothing – complete with top-hat – appeared before them, gazing stoically down at J.J.

"Four score and seven years ago…." the specter intoned, while Lawrence smirked. With a wave of his hand, the spirit vanished.

"Satisfied?" Lawrence asked smugly. "You see? No tricks, no-"

Before he could finish that thought, a rumbling sound caught the trio's attention. They looked around warily, before a loud cracking sound erupted beneath them. A glowing blue hand punched through the wooden stage, and as Lawrence yelped in fright and scrambled backward, a Shard began pulling itself up onto the platform through the hole.

"What is that?!" Lawrence shrieked.

"That? That's what happens when you overuse that jewel the Black Seraph gave you," J.J. replied bitingly.

"I'm not-!" Lawrence began.

"Don't bother denying it," J.J. interrupted. "Shards are attracted to those jewels. It's a dead giveaway, like a smoke trail leading to a fire."

More Shards began shambling into auditorium, though these arrived in a less dramatic fashion, simply filing in through the open doors leading to the exits, their gleaming blue claws extended towards Lawrence. J.J. glanced back at him and added, "You sure you don't wanna give up that gemstone? It might save your life," he suggested.

"I… no!" Lawrence screamed, fleeing past the Shards and out the exit. J.J. sighed and held out his hand. His quill flew into his palm, and he clicked it out into his sword form as he looked over at Tristan, who was facing down three of the creatures while being backed into a corner.

"You gonna be okay there, Tristan?" J.J. called over to him.

"This is but a trifle, page," Tristan replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his shield buckle. He pressed the bull icon, and a loud bovine bellow resounded through the auditorium. His mace emerged from the belt-buckle, starting out the size of a finger, but quickly growing to its full size and hovering in front of Tristan. The knight grabbed his weapon and swung it viciously in a short arc, catching one of the Shards in the chest and knocking it backward. Tristan then kicked a second Shard in the chest and followed up the maneuver by bringing his mace down on its skull with a sickening crack. The Shard crumbled to dust as Tristan yelled out, "Before you!"

J.J. realized that he'd been staring, and snapped out of it in time to sway out of the way of a Shard swiping at him, its claws almost tearing his brown jacket. He hastily swiped at the Shard's arm, but the blade only nicked its arm, doing no real damage. J.J. backed towards the seats as the Shards swiped at him again. This time, he parried the blow off to the side before stepping in and piercing its chest with his sword. He twisted the blade, and the glowing monster crumbled to ash in front of him as two more pressed him from either side.

J.J. glanced around, quickly coming up with a plan. He jumped over three rows of seats to put some distance between him and the monsters while brandishing his sword at them. The Shards followed him clumsily, one of them trying to climb after him. Its heavy rocky legs were ill-suited to match J.J.'s agility, however, and it tripped and fell face-forward into the next row. J.J. leaped over and stabbed the Shard in the back, and the monster fell apart. One of its cohorts more wisely went around to the end of the aisle and began closing in on him. J.J. quickly slipped into his fencing stance, daring it to come closer. His position between the seats gave him a one-dimensional plane to work with, perfect for fencing. He edged away from the Shard, baiting it into following him deeper into the row of seats. Once it was deep enough that it couldn't escape, he darted forward, delivering two quick slashes with his sword that the Shard parried before swiping at him in return. J.J. stepped back, feeling the breeze of the attack on his face, but the Shard had left itself open. Seizing the opportunity, he darted forward and impaled the Shard through its throat, gazing into its hollow eyes for a moment before it crumpled to dust at his feet.

J.J. pulled his blade back and glanced over to Tristan to help him, but the knight had already finished off the remaining Shards. "Let us pursue our quarry, shall we?" Tristan suggested.

"Right," J.J. replied, and the two hurried towards the exits of the auditorium. J.J. shot the knight a sidelong glance and added cheekily, "Still having fun?"

"It would be dishonest of me not to admit that I do find this exhilarating," Tristan grinned.

"Glad that makes one of us, at least," J.J. muttered. The pair sprinted through the lobby and exited the building to the parking lot, where Lawrence was hurrying along the rows of cars, trying to find his own. J.J. and Tristan ran towards him, and the medium panicked and began scrambling away from them, leaving the parking lot and stepping onto the short grass of a nearby open field.

"Leave me alone!" Lawrence shrieked. "You're not ruining my career!"

"We're not trying to ruin you," J.J. insisted. "But if you're that good of a medium, your show doesn't need flashy tricks like summoning the dead, right? If you want to give people hope, that's great. You shouldn't need some cheap gimmick to do it, especially given what that gem will eventually turn you into."

Lawrence stared at J.J. for a moment, and then he lowered his head and began chuckling. "Ah, so that's what this is about. What it'll turn me into, mm? You mean… something like this?"

The medium reached into his pocket and withdrew a deep violet D-former, which he gripped tightly in his hand. There was a blinding flash of purple light that made both J.J. and Tristan shield their eyes. As the light faded and they lowered their hands, J.J. let out an irritated sigh at the new figure in front of them.

In terms of height, the Diemon was one of the smaller ones, standing only perhaps six and a half feet tall. Most of its body was covered in tattered black robes, which billowed around it even though there was little wind. Beneath the robes, Lawrence's body had been transfigured into a skeleton. Bony white hands gripped a twisted black staff, and the hem of his robes near his feet occasionally swirled up to reveal skeletal toes. His head was now a grinning, empty skull, partially covered by the black hood of his robe, with faint cracks running through it. The eye sockets glowed with a faint violet light, and for a moment J.J. feared that he had already achieved Apotheosis, as glowing eyes were one of the hallmarks of that transformation. However, since his body wasn't also covered in runes, he thought – he hoped – that he was still just "wearing the skin of a Diemon" as the Fool had put it.

"Is this what you wanted to warn me about?" Lawrence cackled. Though he had no way to talk, words nevertheless escaped his open mouth, his voice sounding dry and raspy. "Why should I fear this? I've transcended humanity, and I'm now an avatar of death itself! If I hadn't shed my mortal form, I wouldn't be able to speak to the dead, and I have no intention of returning to being merely human!"

"Right… you've clearly snapped," J.J. murmured.

"Page, this must be dealt with swiftly," Tristan said, staring warily at Lawrence. "We know not how long that D-former has been in his possession, but it has already established a firm hold over him. He may soon achieve Apotheosis."

"Yeah. At least now you _can_ deal with it quickly, mm?" J.J. said, shooting Tristan a brief, sidelong smirk.

"Indeed," Tristan said, smiling back in return. "Shall we?"

"Let's," J.J. said. The pair pulled out their respective artifacts, with Tristan holding his shield in his left hand and J.J. gripping his diary in his right. J.J. flipped to his stats page and held the diary up to his left cheek, while Tristan briefly held his shield to his heart and closed his eyes, before holding it out in front of him. At the same time, they called out "Henshin!" and their Drivers appeared around their waists. J.J. snapped his diary shut and slotted it into his belt buckle while Tristan did the same, and they spun their D-formers at almost the same time.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** J.J.'s Driver shouted, and trumpets blared as he was enveloped in an amber die. At the same time, Tristan's Driver yelled, **"Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"** while cymbals echoed in the air and he was similarly encased in a steel-blue crystal.

J.J. felt his body once again being covered by his brown leather armor. Tristan emerged first in his gleaming Azuron suit, holding his shield out defensively. As his own transformation finished, J.J. apprehensively ran his finger over the deep groove in his D-former, testing it to see if it had grown any larger. Thankfully, everything still seemed fine, so he decided not to dwell on it, and instead gripped his sword and dropped into his opening fencing stance. Lawrence, meanwhile, gazed at them silently before letting out a soft, raspy chuckle.

"So eager to rush to your deaths, are you? You're bold to threaten the avatar of the underworld," he warned them.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not intimidated by a cheap high school science prop," J.J. quipped in reply. Suddenly, Tristan charged the skeletal Diemon, swinging his mace around in a short arc. Lawrence floated backward, avoiding the attack effortlessly, but Tristan pressed his assault, trying to keep close.

"Do not banter with your opponent, page!" Tristan admonished J.J. as he attacked. "If you are going to fight, then fight!"

"You're no fun," J.J. muttered, giving his sword a little twirl and jogging forward to help. Lawrence, meanwhile, floated backwards and landed a few feet away from Tristan, before holding out his staff and exhaling in a sharp hiss.

"Spirits of the dead, heed my call and come to my aid!" he shouted. There was a flash of purple light, and three translucent figures flickered into existence, surrounding the blue-armored knight. The ghosts moaned and held their hands out theatrically, slowly floating towards Tristan, who raised his shield and looked around furtively. He swung his mace at the nearest spirit, but the weapon harmlessly phased through its head. Tristan raised his shield again and slipped through a gap between the ghosts, glancing over at J.J. apprehensively while continuing to back away from the spirits.

"Nice trick," J.J. commented to Lawrence, dropping his hand to his belt. "But you're not the only one who can do magic, you know."

He gave his black D-former a quick spin, and his Driver cried out, **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** He was surrounded by an onyx crystal, which began spinning around him rapidly as chimes played, replacing his brown leather armor with a black tunic of his own. As the spinning stopped, he gave his staff a little twirl before pointing it at the trio of ghosts.

"Let's see if a magical attack has a little more effect," J.J. said. He let out a short yell, and a blast of fire erupted from the tip of his staff, engulfing the three spirits in flame. Moments later, however, the ghosts calmly walked through the fire, completely unharmed. J.J. let out a soft "tsk" and lowered his staff

"Alright… so then we ignore the ghosts," J.J. suggested, glancing over at Tristan with a shrug. "I'm willing to bet that Diemon isn't particularly strong. Any suggestions on how we stop him from floating?"

"I do have an ability that might turn this situation in our favor," Tristan replied as he put his hand on the falcon emblem of his shield. He pressed the button, and a falcon screeched loudly as his shield began glowing. His mace faded from his hand, and a shining blue crossbow emerged from the falcon emblem. Tristan planted his shield in the ground, using it as a makeshift pavise, and he grabbed the crossbow and stocked it into his shoulder, aiming it directly at the floating skeleton.

"Even if I cannot engage my opponent in melee, it is not a concern," Tristan explained as he gazed down the length his crossbow, before pulling the lever. A glowing golden crossbow bolt whistled shrilly as it flew through the air, striking the skeleton in the shoulder before disappearing in a shower of sparks. Lawrence let out a scream and fell to the ground, gripping his shoulder as Tristan cranked the crossbow back for another shot.

"Tristan, those ghosts are getting a little close!" J.J. warned him, pointing his staff at one of the spirits and loosing another fireball, but it once again flew harmlessly through the spirit, landing on the pavement some yards away and dissipating before it could catch anything on fire.

"If they are incorporeal as you say, page, we have nothing to fear from-" Tristan began, but one of the spirits finally drew near enough to touch him. Its ghostly hand phased through his armor, piercing his stomach, and Tristan let out a startled cry, taking several steps back to put as much distance as he could between him and the spirit. When he stopped, J.J. could see him visibly shaking.

"What is it?!" J.J. asked, alarmed. He hurried over to where Tristan was doubled over, but the knight waved him off as the spirits resumed their slow advance towards the pair.

"I… have never felt something so cold," Tristan murmured, looking down at his torso where the ghost had touched him.

"That was the cold hand of death… the touch of the grave," Lawrence rasped. "The dead are my allies… my minions, even. I can summon any spirit I wish to fight for me."

"Yeah, but clearly you're not immortal yourself," J.J. pointed out, aiming his staff at Lawrence. "You'll go down like any other Diemon, no matter how many spirits you control."

"If you think you can, then try," Lawrence invited him, holding his arms out.

"Tristan, I'll take point," J.J. said in a low voice, leaning in so that Tristan could hear him. "Try to stay away from the ghosts, and if you get a clear shot, let him have it."

"How do you intend to engage him?" Tristan murmured.

"I'll run ahead and try to draw his focus. Mage Class is fast enough to keep out of the range of those ghosts, and in the meantime I'm going to pelt him with pot shots," J.J. replied. "If he siccs the spirits on me instead, it'll give you time to reload and shoot at him. If he focuses on you, I can get close and whale on him. If he splits his focus and only sends a spirit or two after both of us, we can avoid them. No matter what, I doubt he can handle both of us shooting at him."

"Very well. That is a sound plan," Tristan replied. "But avoid direct confrontation with those spirits."

"Right," J.J. nodded. He straightened up and whistled at the advancing spirits, who turned their attention to him. He began running to his right, trying to draw them away from Tristan, but Lawrence watched him and simply shook his head.

"Ignore him," the Diemon said calmly. "Focus on the knight."

"Ah, good. Thanks for giving me a clear shot, then," J.J. replied. He aimed his staff at Lawrence again, and with a short yell, he began loosing fireballs at the floating skeleton. Lawrence was able to dodge the attacks, but J.J. kept running forward as he attacked, and even though Lawrence was backing away, J.J. was closing the distance. The blasts of fire kept getting closer, until finally a lucky shot slammed into Lawrence's chest, and the skeleton let out a long, raspy scream of pain as he fell to the earth.

"Great idea, focusing on the knight," J.J. mocked Lawrence, pointing his staff at the skeletal Diemon and firing off another burst of flame. Lawrence grunted as it hit him in the face, and he pushed himself to his feet before taking to the air again, floating backward. As he floated, however, he suddenly jerked to the left as a crossbow bolt from Tristan narrowly missed him. J.J. smirked and pointed his staff at the undead monster, firing off yet another fireball, though he was starting to pant heavily from the stamina drain.

"Let's finish this," J.J. murmured to himself. "I've burned enough energy. He should be weak enough for a Critical."

As he dropped his hand to his diary, Lawrence pointed his staff at J.J. A ghostly face suddenly appeared in front of him, and J.J. let out a startled cry, stepping back. The ghost's translucent hand curled into a fist and punched through J.J.'s chest before he could react. Immediately, he felt as though he had just been impaled on a spike of dry ice. The cold was so intense that it burned him, and he reflexively sucked in a sharp breath.

J.J. instinctively stumbled away from the ghost, trying to put as much distance between himself and the spirit as he could, while above him Lawrence cackled.

"For all your bravado, you still fear the icy touch of death," Lawrence hissed. "It isn't something to be ashamed of; fear of death is healthy."

"Yeah… except it's more that I hate the cold. I'm really not afraid of ghosts," J.J. replied, dancing out of the way of the ghost as it reached for him again.

Manic laughter filled the air, and the hairs on the back of J.J.'s neck stood on end. The laughter, however, didn't come from Lawrence. J.J. swung around to see the Fool sitting in the branches of a nearby tree, clapping merrily at the fight.

"Ooh, it has been too long since we saw a magician at work!" the Fool chuckled. "This was worth the trip! We are glad to see you making full use of your gift, Lawrence! Tell us, is speaking with the dead all you had hoped it'd be?"

"Your master delivers on his promises," Lawrence replied, giving the Fool a dramatic, sweeping bow. "I'm truly grateful."

Out of the corner of his eye, J.J. saw a golden bolt of energy lance towards the Fool, who leaned out of the way in time, and it flew past the harlequin before harmlessly dissipating in the sky. Behind him, he heard Tristan growl irritably.

"And we get to see the newest actor, too!" the Fool laughed. "Ooh, that armor is just as we remember it! So shiny! It's just like new! But just because it has a new layer of polish doesn't mean all the blood and tears have been cleaned from it… does it, sir knight?"

"What would you know of it?" Tristan growled, cranking his crossbow for another shot.

"More than you might think," the Fool replied, chuckling darkly. It turned its attention to J.J., dropping down from a tree before pacing around him with its hands behind its back, just out of reach of J.J.'s staff. "We know so much about wounds and scars. For instance, fresh wounds are the most painful, and the easiest to reopen."

"Come a bit closer and I'll open a few fresh wounds on you," J.J. snarled.

The Fool snorted at the quip, strolling over to Lawrence while looking over his shoulder at J.J. "It claims it doesn't fear the spirits of the dead? We know that isn't true, and we can easily prove such. It simply requires… the right name."

The Fool leaned in and whispered something to Lawrence, who began chuckling as well as he held his arms out and announced, "Spirits of the dead, I call upon one of your number. Bring to me… Kelsie Shaw."

J.J.'s eyes widened as Lawrence pointed his staff at J.J.'s feet, and in a flash of violet light, he found himself staring down into Kelsie's bright blue eyes. The girl was translucent, but otherwise looked exactly as she did when… on her final night, J.J. finished mentally, swallowing hard.

"Page… why?" Kelsie murmured.

J.J. shook his head, taking a step away from her as he said softly, "This is just another trick..."

"It's not. This is real," Kelsie replied. "Why? Why did you kill me?"

J.J. felt his mouth go dry, and he took another step back. "You… I didn't know…."

"Page! Focus on the Diemon!" Tristan shouted, but J.J. barely heard the knight. He was vaguely aware of Tristan firing another crossbow bolt in the skeleton's direction, but the clown pulled him out of the way. J.J., however, barely registered this, his focus entirely captured by Kelsie's shade.

"It doesn't matter that you didn't know," Kelsie murmured. "It's still your fault. And all I wanted to do was help you."

J.J. swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump forming in his throat, as he replied, "I… told you not to…"

"You should have helped me," Kelsie murmured. "You should have saved me. You were supposed to be a hero. My hero."

"I…!" J.J. protested weakly.

"But you're not," Kelsie continued over him, her voice turning harsh and malicious. "You never were. I see that now. You don't deserve these powers. Stop playing at being a hero and give up. Before someone else gets killed because of you."

The spirit reached out, thrusting her hand through his chest, before withdrawing it forcefully, as if she'd just plunged a knife into him. Once again, J.J. felt the searing cold spreading through his entire body, but it was the spirit's words that pierced him far more deeply. He fell to his knees as his suit began fracturing around him, coppery lines spreading along it before shattering into a thousand fractals. This was accompanied by a loud cracking sound, and J.J. slowly looked down as something brushed his hand.

Lying on the street were the two broken halves of his amber D-former. Panic seized him, overriding even the lingering icy sensation of the ghost's hand. His heart began pounding furiously, sweat running down the back of his neck.

"No… no, not good!" he stammered. His fingers fumbled for the pieces of the jewel, and he tried to force the pieces together and push them back into the diary, but they fell out once more and clattered across the ground.

Lawrence slowly floated towards him, extending his hand out to finish J.J. while he was unmorphed. Before he could get within range, however, Tristan fired another crossbow bolt at the skeleton, and the missile slammed into Lawrence's chest. The skeleton let out a raspy scream of pain, and Kelsie's spirit disappeared. The Fool folded his arms, letting out a soft titter.

"There is no need for us to linger, Lawrence," the Fool commented. "You've already done more than enough by removing one threat to the Black Seraph. Not that it was much of a threat to begin with," the clown added, and J.J. could swear he was sneering behind his mask. "Let us retreat for now."

Lawrence briefly hesitated, but when he saw Tristan lining up another shot, he sighed and turned around, his robes swirling behind him as he followed the Fool away. Tristan lowered his crossbow and ran over to J.J., his steel boots clanging loudly on the pavement. He stopped short of J.J., who was still kneeling on the ground and futilely trying to fix his die.

"Come on… just stay together, dammit!" J.J. snapped at the die. He pushed the pieces together again and jammed them into the slot in the diary, before giving the jewel a firm spin. It rotated once in the socket before falling out again and bouncing across the pavement, stopping a few feet outside of his grasp. J.J. slumped, defeated, as Tristan put his hand on his shoulder.

"Have you been harmed?" Tristan asked softly.

"No. And yes," J.J. replied quietly, sighing as he scooped up the pieces of his D-former. He stared at the broken gem silently. Fear, despair, horror, and – oddly – a strange sense of relief warred within him for dominance. Above all of that, though, was one principal thought: This was undoubtedly the end of his life as a Kamen Rider.


	23. Session 23

**Session 23**

J.J. slowly walked into his darkened apartment building with his head bowed, his hand still clenched around the broken halves of his D-former in his pocket. He'd driven Tristan back to Susumu's place, but hadn't said anything to the mechanic before departing for his own home. The entire trip, his mind had been blank. This wasn't like with Kelsie's death, where he'd been in complete shock. Rather… he wasn't sure how he was feeling, or even how he was _supposed_ to feel. He almost felt as if he'd seen his car get struck by lightning – it was unfortunate, and certainly unexpected, but there also wasn't anything he could do about it, so he didn't have any real reason to be upset about it. Did he?

Still mulling this over, he pulled out his key and unlocked the door, but as he brushed the handle, he realized that it had already been unlocked. That snapped him back to reality, and instinctively, he held his hand out for his quill. Immediately, his weapon flew into his hand, which surprised him, but he decided not to question it for the moment. He snapped it into its sword form, slowly pushing open the door as he did, and he glanced around warily as he stepped into the room. He knew a sword wasn't going to do much good against a burglar armed with a gun, but it still made him feel a little better.

As he stepped inside, he heard someone moving around. He slipped over to one wall and peered around the corner warily, but then he exhaled as he saw Gwen's familiar white-blond hair. Annoyance prickled inside him while relief simultaneously washed over him. He turned on the light, making the girl jump in surprise before turning around and grinning at him.

"Aww, you're back early!" she complained playfully. Her smile faded, however, when she saw the sword in his hand. "What's that for?"

"In case I needed to beat down whomever decided it'd be a good idea to break into my apartment," J.J. retorted drily, snapping the quill back down to its pen shape. The quill dutifully flew back into his pocket and nestled itself under the spine of his diary. "I forgot that I gave you a key."

"Oh, that's a good sign, forgetting a detail like that. One too many blows to the head while you were out fighting, huh?" Gwen quipped. Then her expression softened. "I knew you were probably having a bad day since it's the day of Kelsie's funeral, so I wanted to come over and cook you something special."

J.J. smiled softly and crossed the room. He gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly as he said softly, "Thank you. That's really sweet of you."

"Don't mention it," she shrugged, smiling up at him. "How _was_ your day?"

J.J.'s smile faded, and he looked away with a sigh. "It's… gotten worse as the afternoon has progressed," he said slowly.

"I'm sorry," Gwen frowned, touching his cheek. "What happened?"

"Ah, the usual," J.J. said, keeping his tone light. "Heard about Kelsie's funeral from the kids, had to deal with the Diemon attack… and now I can't transform anymore. So, yeah, been a little bit of a downer."

Gwen's eyes widened, and she took a step back, concerned. "Explain," she implored him.

J.J. reached into his pocket and pulled out the two halves of his D-former, laying them on the kitchen table for her to see. He spent the next few minutes recounting what had happened while she listened with her arms folded. When he finished, he took a seat and propped his head in his hands, looking out the window while she gazed at him silently.

"So… what're you going to do about it?" Gwen asked.

"Not much I _can_ do about it, is there?" J.J. shrugged. "Unless we could dig up an Almencian alchemist and get him to fix this, I'm kind of out of luck, huh?"

"You're taking this rather well," Gwen observed. "I thought you'd be more upset."

"I don't know… lately, I've been almost wishing that I didn't have to do this anymore, honestly," J.J. admitted. "Seems like I got that half-hearted wish, huh?"

Gwen turned away from him, walking over to the stove where she was cooking something heavily laced with garlic and onions, from the smell of it. "That's… disappointing to hear," she said after a long pause.

"How do you mean?" J.J. asked, frowning at her back while folding his arms and leaning back in the chair.

"We're in the middle of a crisis, J.J. People are still being turned into Diemons, and they need a hero. And now you're throwing in the towel? How do you think they'd react if they heard their hero was giving up without even trying to fix his D-former?" she asked, poking at their dinner with a spoon.

"They have Tristan," J.J. pointed out. "Frankly, he's a much better fighter than I am anyways, with far more experience."

"Yes, Tristan is excellent," Gwen agreed. "But if he had you helping him, it'd be even better, wouldn't it? More Kamen Riders fighting can only be a good thing."

"Don't call me that, Gwen," J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "I'm not a Kamen Rider."

Gwen remained silent for a long moment, the food sizzling in the pan, before she finally asked softly, "What about your promise to Kelsie?"

"Don't," J.J. growled, narrowing his eyes at her. "Especially not today."

"No, seriously," Gwen pressed, finally turning around to glare at him. "I thought you made a promise in her name that you were going to prevent anyone else from reaching Apotheosis. That resolve didn't last very long, did it?"

"Gwen, Kelsie wouldn't have become a Diemon in the first place if I didn't have my armor!" J.J. cried. "If she hadn't been lingering in the forest to watch me fight Irene, she never would have been injured! And if she was never injured, she'd never have had a reason to accept the Black Seraph's offer, she never would have become a Diemon herself, and she _never would have died_!"

"No, you're right," Gwen shot back. "Instead, the Black Seraph would have made one Diemon – probably Ryan – it would have run rampant through the city, thousands would have died, and she'd probably be among their number instead! You prevented that!"

"I'm not going to play 'what if' with you," J.J. snarled. "Kelsie died because of me. And anyways, I'm sick of fighting."

"You're not allowed to be!" Gwen shouted.

"Aren't I?" J.J. snapped back at her. "You're not the one having to do this, Gwen! You don't have to deal with constantly watching the news, worrying about when the next Diemon is going to show up. Feeling that weight on your shoulders when a new one pops up and having to hurry to fight it before people get hurt in its rampage! Hell, even Shards showing up on the street is enough to make me worry, because it might mean that there's another Diemon on the verge of achieving Apotheosis, and I might have to end their life if I don't get there in time! Do you have any idea what that's like?"

"No, I don't," Gwen replied, stepping away from the stove and standing inches from J.J.'s face. "What I have to deal with instead is worrying about whether or not a Diemon will show up, and if I'll be near enough to the blast radius that I'll be one of the ones caught up in it! When that happens, all I can do is hope that someone with the power to stop it – you, you idiot – will be near enough to keep me from dying! That, J.J., is what true powerlessness feels like. Yeah, you have it rough, but don't think that you're the only one suffering here! And at least you can actually do something about it! You can't turn your back on those that can't!"

"Well, I don't have the power to do something about it anymore, do I?!" J.J. shouted at her. "So what do you want me to do?!"

Gwen gazed at him before holding her hands up. "Know what? I'm not dealing with this right now," she said simply.

"Now who's the one running?" J.J. snipped at her.

"Once you grow up, we'll talk," Gwen shot back, gathering her coat and flicking a wave at him over her shoulder. "Make sure your dinner doesn't burn."

J.J. glared at her retreating back as she walked out the door with her nose in the air, slamming it behind her. Once she was gone, he sighed and deflated a bit, running his hands through his hair. He briefly considered going after her, but he figured she'd just brush him off after that fight. It wasn't worth the trouble.

The stove hissed loudly at him, and J.J. glanced at it to see that the steam rising from it was starting to turn dark. He cursed under his breath and scrambled over to it, taking the pan off the heat and turning it off. Thankfully, only the onions were slightly singed, and it was still perfectly edible. With a weary sigh, he tipped the food onto a plate, seeing that it was a mixture of sausage and onions, one of his favorite meals.

"Because of course this would be how one of the worst days of my life ends," he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes again as he pulled a fork out of the drawer. He tentatively speared a bit of the sausage and popped it into his mouth, before letting out a sigh. "Dammit. And it's delicious, too," he murmured. "Thanks, Gwen."

* * *

"So, Gwen's still not talking to you?" Ryan asked.

"Nope. She's ignored every text I sent, and when I tried calling her, it went straight to voice mail," J.J. replied bitterly. He was sitting with Abby, Ryan, Tristan, and Agni in the tavern, his fingers flying over the keyboard with a tankard of soda within reach, though it was virtually untouched.

"I think she overreacted," Abby shrugged. "Like you said, it's not like you can transform right now anyways. And we do have Tristan."

"Your faith in my abilities is heartening, Lady Brooks," Tristan replied with a slight smile.

"Well, you're a better fighter than J.J. is anyways," Ryan added. "Not sure if we even need him around anymore anyways."

"Oh, thanks," J.J. grumbled as the others glared at Ryan, who flinched under their glares. "Though you're not wrong," he admitted.

"At least you're using your free time well," Agni commented, taking a sip of his own drink. "I'm glad you're taking your writing so seriously."

"Have you taken a break recently, though?" Abby asked, concerned.

"Like Agni said, it's not like I have much else to do," J.J. replied, pausing to furiously delete a line in the story.

"Yeah, but… you could at least help by copying down what the Diemon you fought is," she suggested. "Or… does the diary not work at all anymore?"

"No, it does, but only barely," J.J. replied, pausing to save his work before reaching into his pocket and pulling it out. "I can't transform or write down anything in the diary, but I can still use my sword at least."

"Really? How?" Ryan asked.

Before J.J. could respond, the quill flew up to answer his question. J.J. quickly reached out and grabbed it, holding it lightly so that it would look like he was simply copying something down in the book.

 _It is currently impossible to generate armor or to analyze Diemon data because the base jewel J.J. had it is what provided the primary spark of power required to activate those functions,_ the quill explained. _However, the most basic function of allowing me animation is still possible because your own D-formers provide sufficient energy._

"So we're still contributing in a way," Abby commented.

"That's… kinda cool," Ryan added, grinning slightly.

"You guys have contributed a lot, actually," J.J. assured them. "Without your D-formers giving me my alternate forms, I wouldn't have survived this long. I owe a lot to all of you."

There was a moment of silence before Agni said, "Don't get all mushy on us now, J.J. Now, what do we know about that Diemon?"

"Nothing, though I do think that I've figured out what type of Diemon it is," J.J. said. "Lawrence is a lich. It would explain why he has necromantic abilities, if he can indeed summon spirits from beyond the grave."

"That's… arguably the most powerful ability any Diemon has had so far," Agni murmured.

"Yeah. And what worries me is how much more powerful he could become if he achieved Apotheosis," J.J. admitted, feeling a shiver run down his body. "Just those phantoms were enough to give Tristan and I trouble. What if his Apotheosis lets him summon zombies, or makes those ghosts stronger? We can't even counter them as is. The last thing we need is for them to get more powerful."

"That's… a cheery thought," Agni said softly.

"Yeah. So why don't we drop it for now?" J.J. suggested. "Besides, I didn't even land a hit on the lich last fight anyways, so I couldn't write it down even if that function was working. There's no point worrying ourselves over what we can't change, right?"

There was a long pause, and for the next few minutes the group idly chatted about what Abby and Ryan were doing in school. From across the bar, Gary turned up the TV, and J.J. wasn't paying attention at first until Agni shushed them and they all listened intently to the news report.

"…the glowing blue monsters that have been terrorizing the city have been spotted near the local retirement home in Old Marville. Residents are encouraged to avoid the area at all costs. We will have live updates as police arrive on the scene-"

"I suppose that means I must depart," Tristan commented, pushing himself up. J.J. paused in his writing, his hand unconsciously dropping to his diary.

"I… can drive you over there," J.J. offered.

"Unnecessary. I have been training to ride the motorcycle Susumu provided me, and I believe that I have attained sufficient skill that I no longer require assistance," Tristan explained. "If you notice, I arrived here myself."

"Huh. I thought you'd walked," J.J. admitted. "Still… I mean, I could come with you. Even if I can't transform, I could fight the Shards-"

"Page," Tristan said firmly. "Your enthusiasm is commendable, but foolish. Even with the aid you would provide in dispatching the Shards, once they have been eliminated you would be a liability in a battle. Lawrence would turn his attention upon you, and without your armor providing protection, you would perish. It is why I did not interfere with your battles when I accompanied you."

"But-!" J.J. protested.

"I know that it is difficult to remain behind while others fight," Tristan smiled gently. "But in this case, I must ask you to do so. Did you not also mention that you were relieved to have time to pursue other interests? To rest?"

"I-" J.J. hesitated. Why _was_ he arguing?

"You need not worry for me, page," Tristan assured him. "Remain here. I insist."

J.J. closed his mouth, before letting out a long, slow sigh and inclining his head. "Alright… and get a map from Susumu. It'd be really embarrassing for your first solo battle in a while if you got lost along the way."

"A fair point. I shall," Tristan chuckled, waving as he turned and walked out the door, leaving the others gazing at his back.

"This feels weird," Ryan said after a few moments, looking back over at J.J. "You sure that you're alright with this?"

"Yeah," J.J. shrugged nonchalantly. "Like you said, he's stronger than I am and has a lot more fighting experience. And I do like having a bit more free time to myself for a change." He sighed, looking over the edge of his computer. "Tell you what, you guys wanna run a session of the campaign?"

"We're missing Gwen, though," Ryan pointed out. "Wouldn't be fair to run the game without her."

"I also have to get to a meeting," Agni added, glancing at his phone. "But I'm glad you're working so hard on that story in the meantime, J.J. Keep it up, and I'll keep tossing money your way," he grinned.

"Ah… sure," J.J. said slowly.

"I should head out too," Abby added, biting her lower lip. "My mom wanted to take me shopping, and I shouldn't flake on that again."

"Oh… well, in that case, I'm gonna head home too," Ryan shrugged. "No point sticking around here if everyone's leaving. Maybe I'll play that new video game I got a few days ago."

"…Sure," J.J. said, glancing down at his laptop again. Abby paused, tilting her head.

"You wanna come with or something?" she asked kindly. J.J. glanced up again, grinning at her reassuringly.

"Nah! I'm not one for shopping, and you should spend that time with your mom, like you said. Besides, I've got work I should get done, so I'll stay here for a bit longer. Maybe I'll head home early once I'm done."

"…Alright. Take care," Abby said, waving at him over her shoulder as she and Ryan departed.

J.J. watched them walk out the door before letting out a soft sigh and returning to his typing. He was left alone at his table for a few minutes before Gary wandered over, carrying another tankard of soda for him, even though the first was still mostly full.

"That was odd," he commented. "Usually you're bouncing in and out of here with that crowd. It's not like you to stay behind."

"Well… things do change," J.J. replied, shrugging as he took the tankard with a smile and took a long sip from it.

"…Does it have something to do with what you've been doing as Kamen Rider Page?" Gary asked bluntly.

J.J.'s eyes widened, and he spat the soda out in a misty spray. Thankfully, he'd turned his head so he didn't get it on either his computer or the bartender. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand as he looked up at Gary in shock.

"How-?!" J.J. began.

"What, like it was supposed to be a secret?" Gary pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you just didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't pry. If you were trying to keep a secret identity, you suck at it, J.J. You always run out the door when a monster attacks, you ride the same motorcycle as Page, I've seen that quill pen you have floating around… even Tristan's kinda suspicious, so I figured he was also linked with what's been going on around town. I'm honestly insulted that you thought you were fooling me."

J.J. grinned sheepishly, looking away. "Sorry," he murmured. "I just… didn't want to mention it to you because I didn't want any extra attention around here."

"That's fair. I'll keep it to myself. But you can share that kind of thing with me, idiot. You know that," Gary said, smacking him upside his head. "So what's been going on? Talk to me."

J.J. hesitated, then sighed and closed his laptop. For the next half hour, he told Gary everything that had happened over the past few months. For the most part, the bartender listened quietly, occasionally taking a sip of his own soda while J.J. told his story, and only interrupting when he needed clarification about some minor detail. When J.J. finished, he held out his broken D-former for Gary to see.

"And with this broken, none of that matters now," J.J. sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"So it'd seem. But the real question you need to ask yourself, J.J., is what is it that _you_ want right now?" Gary asked.

"That's just it. I'm not even sure," J.J. admitted. "I never really wanted to get wrapped up in this. I'm not a fighter. I don't have any real talent for combat. My dream is to publish my own bestselling novel, not to get wrapped up in a war. With my D-former broken… I thought that having all this free time would be awesome. For the last several weeks, I've been lamenting the fact that all my time was taken up fighting Diemons and Shards. But now… when Tristan said he had to go off to fight Shards, my first instinct was to go help him." He gave Gary a sidelong glance. "I wonder if that's just because it's habit by now."

"Probably at least a little bit, yeah," Gary agreed. "You've gotten used to fighting, whether you like it or not."

"Yeah, but… I didn't expect to feel this… restless," J.J. said uneasily. "Part of me really is glad that I don't have to go fight, but another part is feeling guilty, like I'm not doing enough. I feel like I'm wasting my time sitting here."

"Do you think that has anything to do with your promise to that girl, Kelsie?" Gary suggested.

J.J.'s eyes lit up, realization dawning on him. "That's… a good point, actually," J.J. replied. "That'd explain the guilt."

"Especially since you said you couldn't go to her funeral," Gary added. He tapped his fingers on the table, looking away for a moment. "That being said… I have a suggestion about something you could do that might help."

"Which is?" J.J. asked.

"Go visit her," Gary said. "It sounds like all your problems come back this girl, and going to see her could give you some closure."

"You want me to go visit her grave?" J.J. asked uncomfortably.

"Why not?" Gary shrugged. "You said yourself that you don't know what to do with all this free time you have, and with Tristan keeping an eye on things, you actually _can_ go out and do what you want. If anything, it'll give you a bit of fresh air instead of spending all day sitting around in my tavern again. At this point, you're just taking up space."

"Why, are you getting sick of me?" J.J. asked, grinning slightly.

"I'm tired of seeing you mope," Gary retorted.

"Ouch," J.J. chuckled. "But… I'm not sure if visiting the cemetery is a good idea. Her mother made it very clear she didn't want-"

"It's public land, J.J. Unless she's hired mercenaries to guard the entrance to the graveyard, I doubt she can do much to stop you," Gary snorted.

Despite himself, J.J. chuckled. He then groaned and looked up at the ceiling, a pensive expression on his face. "I suppose it's worth a shot, if nothing else." Looking back down at Gary, he added, "Thanks for the advice. And… I'm sorry I kept it from you for so long."

"I understand your reasoning, J.J., but we're friends. I gave you a room for three months when you were a vagabond, for godsakes, and I didn't even know you then. You should know by now that you can always come to me if you have problems. And don't be afraid to rely on your other friends, too. You've done more than enough to help them; the least they can do is listen when you need someone to talk to. And I think you'll find they'd be happy to do so."

"I'll… keep that in mind," J.J. said slowly. As he stood up, he added, "Seriously, you're playing the role of the wise bartender way too well."

"Blame your game for that one," Gary smirked. "It's given me so many clichés to borrow from. Speaking of, when you get back, I'd love for you to run another session. It also might make you feel better."

"I'll think about it," J.J. replied, pushing himself up and pulling his jacket over his shoulders.

* * *

J.J. had never had reason to enter the Marville city graveyard, so as he pulled into the parking lot, he felt uneasy, as he didn't know what to expect. He'd never been necrophobic, but he nevertheless felt a chill run down his spine as he dismounted his bike and pulled off his helmet. Maybe he was just afraid that he'd run into Karen while he was here, he mused with a wry smirk. He almost _did_ half-expect to see a quartet of armed black-suited agents protecting the entrance to the cemetery. Fortunately, of course, there was nothing like that. He passed through the open iron gate quietly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he made his way down a narrow cobblestone path.

As he walked, he noted that the cemetery was quite peaceful. The air around it almost seemed muffled, as if the wind itself didn't want to disturb the area. In between the rows of tombstones, the caretakers had planted trees which provided spots of shade where people could rest on green benches. The gravestones were also well-kept and neatly ordered. Several had offerings of flowers and gifts in front of them, making the graveyard almost cheery in a strange way.

J.J. also quickly noticed that he wasn't the only one in the cemetery by any means, though he hadn't expected to be the only one there. A young boy and his mother were chatting in front of one of the headstones, while an old woman silently wept while standing before a marble angel. He felt a pang of pity for them as he watched. That feeling was tinged with guilt as he wondered how many of them had loved ones that he'd failed to save from Diemon attacks.

Ruthlessly, he pushed that thought out of his mind. If he started blaming himself for everyone he couldn't save, he'd never be able to live with himself. Instead, he decided to focus on finding Kelsie's grave. Picking up his pace, he began walking quickly through the rows, trying to find some pattern in the names. There wasn't one, however, but he did eventually come across a small clearing that was less crowded with graves. Near the end, he saw a gravestone with the name "Kelsie Shaw" written across it in a stylized cursive font.

As soon as he saw the name, J.J. felt a pang shoot through his chest. It wasn't quite as bad as when he'd felt Kelsie melt away in his arms, but seeing her name like this gave her death a sense of… finality. It was impossible for him to deny that she was gone, with her name staring up at him, etched in cold, hard granite. All the feelings of guilt and sorrow he'd kept suppressed for days rose in his chest, and his eyes began to itch. Slowly, he knelt in front of the tombstone, taking deep, slow, shuddering breaths as he tried to keep his composure.

For several long moments, he sat silently, hearing only his own heart pounding in his ears. He'd come to the cemetery because he thought he might find some sense of closure, but… all he felt was all the pain he'd been holding back. He'd tried so hard to keep it together for the past several days, but he simply couldn't do it anymore. Tears began to run down his cheeks as he gazed at Kelsie's name, and he hastily wiped them away.

"Hey, kiddo," he finally murmured, looking down at the ground as he spoke. "Sorry it took me so long to come see you. Your mom's… well, she's been your mom," he laughed bitterly, still wiping at his face.

J.J. fell silent for a little while, simply staring at the grave, before shaking his head and letting out a little sigh. "You know… I came here to talk to you, like Gary suggested, but… I really have no idea what I'm supposed to say."

"Perhaps you need someone who can speak with you, then," an eerily familiar feminine voice replied from over his shoulder.

J.J. whirled around, slipping his hand into his pocket for his diary in case he needed it, but as soon as he saw the figure standing behind him, his jaw fell open and all thoughts of fighting left his mind. Gazing down at him from a few feet away was a tall, slender figure in flowing white robes. Her face was obscured by a golden mask, and six snow-white wings were spread open behind her. As J.J. gazed at her, she lowered her wings and stood with her hands folded in front of her.

"The White Seraph," J.J. murmured softly.

"So you have taken to calling me, yes," she replied, continuing to gaze down at him. "Would you like company?"

J.J. eyed her warily, glancing around the cemetery. "Are you… really supposed to be out in the open like this?" he asked. He noticed that a few of the passerby were giving her a wide berth, and one of them even screamed and took off in the opposite direction. The seraph merely chuckled, however, her melodic voice floating above him as her shoulders shook.

"There is little need, isn't there?" she replied calmly. "After all, you are one of a very few that could pose a threat to me, and I have no desire to fight you. Nor do you wish to attack me, do you?" she asked calmly.

"I mean… I don't usually fight someone if I don't have a reason to," J.J. admitted. "But… what's your game, exactly?"

"What do you mean?" the seraph asked patiently. "You seemed as if you were in a low spot, and I came to offer a sympathetic ear."

"Alright, but how did you know that?" J.J. asked. "Plus, I've been in low spots before, and you never came by to help me then. So, what, you've always had my best interests at heart or something? I'm supposed to believe that?"

"I have been… observing you," the White Seraph replied, settling onto her knees on the grass in front of him, keeping her hands folded before her. "Before now, you were able to work through your problems yourself. Now, however, I have determined that you require my assistance."

"To what end?" J.J. asked suspiciously. "I've spent enough time fighting off the Black Seraph to know that every word he speaks is honeyed poison. So why should I trust you? What's your own stake in all this? Why did you save me in the first place, and why did you give me these powers?"

The White Seraph gazed at him quietly for several moments before looking up at the sky with a pensive air about her, even though the golden mask she wore was expressionless. Finally, after remaining silent for a little while, she asked, "Very well. I do owe you an explanation. Please, allow me to tell you my story, then. What do you know of the fall of Almencia?"

"I know that your brother was responsible for creating the Diemons that caused the destruction of that island," J.J. replied. "What I don't know is what your role in it was."

The White Seraph nodded, looking down at him again. "If you would hear my perspective, then, I shall gladly tell you. The best place to start is with my birth. I was created by Lord Quintus Marks, as you know – the greatest alchemist the world has ever seen. As for my purpose… I was created to fulfill a certain wish of King Domitius' – he wanted his people to be able to fill any role in society that they desired. He felt that Lord Quintus could provide him with an alchemical solution that would see that goal come to fruition."

"Right, I did know that much," J.J. nodded.

The White Seraph inclined her head. "To fulfill this wish, Lord Quintus sought a way to modify humanity's flaws and weaknesses, mitigating them or even turning them into strengths. I was his first true success. I was able to provide people with the means to view their strengths and weaknesses in an easily-accessible format… at for least those that were literate."

"The D-formers and the stats sheets," J.J. said.

"Correct. These were the keys to human modification and improvement. Lord Quintus felt that this would be enough to satisfy the king's wishes. After all, if people could see where their weaknesses were, they could work to change them, and when they improved themselves, they could improve their standing in society. This, however, was not sufficient for King Domitius."

"Let me guess… he wanted a magical solution. He wanted to be able to snap his fingers and wipe away a person's weaknesses," J.J. scoffed. "That's what a lot of people want, after all."

"Correct again," the seraph said grimly. "Thus, King Domitius ordered Lord Quintus to create a new construct, one that could simply give people what they wanted. Lord Quintus thus created my brother, the Black Seraph, as he came to be called. Whereas my D-formers – as you know them – were mere reflections of a human's abilities, the Black Seraph could freely change them by manipulating the D-formers and their stat sheets. This was the breakthrough that King Domitius wished for, the magical solution he craved. It made Lord Quintus a legend, and people began to flock to him, begging for him to erase all their weaknesses.

"I watched as thousands beseeched my brother to change them, so that they could have the skills needed to succeed in any field they pleased. My brother did so without hesitation, and the people loved him and my father for it. Within months, most of the population of Almencia had been reshaped, and people were able to fulfill their dreams. Farmers were able to produce vast quantities of food in dry, rocky soil; craftsmen sculpted masterpieces in mere seconds; men and women alike became paragons of utter beauty. It was, for a time, a utopia." She sighed nostalgically, looking away.

"There was a legend that said that when people came to you, you ignored them," J.J. interjected cautiously.

"They came to me because they thought I could fulfill their wishes like my brother could," the White Seraph replied, turning back to him. "However, because I could only show them their own reflection, I was no more useful to them than a mirror. They didn't want to see what was wrong with them, they wanted their flaws removed. In time, as they realized that I couldn't give them what they wanted, they began to ignore me."

"Were you lonely?" J.J. asked, tilting his head.

"I wasn't constructed to feel loneliness," the White Seraph chuckled. "My brother and I have our own motivations and emotions now, but we required years to develop them. At the time, we were little better than mindless machines, as unfeeling as your cellphone. We could perform our assigned functions, but we didn't become self-aware until a good deal later. At least not until… problems began arising," she added slowly.

"The Diemons?" J.J. asked.

"Yes. There was a fatal flaw in Quintus' work. His modification process worked too well. A person's modification superseded everything else about them. In time, it was all they became. I'm sure you're familiar with this part – a farmer who grew crops magically made his plot of land a lordship of hostile plants. The sculptor that produced statues became a creature of living marble. The newly beautiful violently attacked anything that had any perceived ugliness. That was when Almencia began to fall apart."

"Wait… if King Domitius wanted to erase flaws, why didn't he modify the guard?" J.J. asked, tilting his head. "You'd think he'd want a perfect army."

"Ah… that's where King Domitius' own vanity played a part," the White Seraph said. "He feared that if he made his personal guard perfect, he would be powerless to stop them from seizing his throne if they so desired. Thus, he wanted them to have flaws he could exploit if they turned on him, while still ensuring they were still strong enough to defend him. Hence why he had Lord Quintus design the armored suits. Plus, I believe he feared that forcing them to undergo modifications would breed resentment. Everyone that approached my brother did so voluntarily. There were a few guards who did ask my brother for gifts, but most of them remained unchanged. In fact, there were many in Almencia that feared me and my brother. In total, I believe less than a quarter of the population of Almencia received D-formers. Even the king himself didn't ask my brother for a gift. I believe he already thought himself perfect, and thus there was nothing he desired, and nothing to modify." J.J. thought he could hear her scoff, indicated by a slight break in her otherwise melodic voice.

"Lucky for them, then, once all hell broke loose," J.J. said.

"Indeed. As I said, by this point, I was basically ignored by most of the population, and Diemons never attacked me. Thus, I was able to walk freely through the island while the crisis raged, and no one witnessed the carnage as thoroughly as I did. Brothers tore each other to shreds. Unspeakable horrors roamed the streets, driven mad by their own desires. If the world is to end in an apocalypse, I believe it will strongly resemble the final days of Almencia," she said softly. "When it was all over, my brother and I were virtually alone on a destroyed, uninhabited island that no ships would come near. Our island faded into legend, and it was forgotten altogether before the Middle Ages ended."

"Then how did you get here?" J.J. asked.

"Our descendants from mainland Europe followed the old legends of our island and eventually pinpointed our location by the end of the eighteenth century. By then, they had established a small town in North America, and they wanted to bring pieces of Almencia back with them, to create a new Almencian city, a reconstruction of the legends with a modern flair. My brother and I were in stasis at this point, and they tried to awaken us, to speak with us. Tristan had severely weakened my brother after his battle, and while he had the energy to remain awake for about another year – in which time he gained Agnar as an ally – once he placed himself in stasis, he needed centuries to regain his energy. Thus, he did not awaken when the Almencian colonists found him. Fortunately, I had suffered no such defeat, and woke as soon as I was found. I… spent time with these people, and I found that they had changed much in the past several centuries. They were more intelligent, more curious, and had a deep hunger for knowledge. As I walked among them, I felt that these colonists were worth saving. I also knew that when my brother awoke, he would want to resume his plans, to rectify his failure with Almencia and to fulfill his mission of bringing people happiness. Thus, I began planning against him.

"I established a group known as the Order of the Shield, and I spared no expense to bring pieces of Almencia to the New World, burying them deep underground in an elaborate labyrinth as a safeguard against my brother. Your friend, Tristan, was key to my plans, as when he awoke, he would be one of the fiercest opponents of the Black Seraph, his sworn enemy. However, I was… overzealous and careless with what I took. I admit, I had forgotten what was important and what was not, and I simply grabbed everything I could before my brother awoke. In my haste, I suspect that I also accidentally brought former warriors of Almencia also locked away in stasis, including the Fool and Sir Agnar, those that now hound you. For that, I apologize," she said, bowing her head contritely. "Worse, I had less time than I realized, as my brother had regained enough strength to revive himself by the early nineteenth century. I had to halt my plans immediately and disband the Order of the Shield, so that he didn't suspect that I was working against him. Thankfully my brother was too weak to create new D-formers, but his strength slowly returned over the years. Our descendants continued to build up Marville, until it became the town it is today, while its populace remained unaware of the danger that they were in."

"So why didn't you tell them?" J.J. asked. "Why didn't you create an army in the meantime, especially while your brother was still weak? Or, better yet, why not just kill your brother while he was in stasis?"

"It came down to both our programming and a lack of resources. Both he and I are unable to directly harm a human or each other, save in self-defense. It's why he still relies on proxies, instead of attacking you himself. As for having someone else kill him… even weakened, my brother could easily defeat any human that fought him without Almencian alchemy aiding them," the White Seraph shook her head. "I couldn't act against him, even in secret. If I trained even one person, I feared my brother would have them killed. All I could do was hope that Tristan awoke in time to fight him, before my brother regained his full power." She turned to face J.J., folding her hands in front of her again. "What neither of us expected, however… was you."

"What? My stumbling across Devon's diary?" J.J. asked.

"Yes! Neither I nor my brother could have predicted that you would discover it, nor that you could awaken Tristan early," the White Seraph explained. "It meant that my brother had to accelerate his plans, in case Tristan became an active threat against him again. You were the catalyst that allowed us to begin moving to stop him before he gained too much power."

"A lot of good that does me now," J.J. said, holding out his broken D-former. "I think it was damaged in the last fight I had. There was this lich that had some sort of power to summon ghosts, and one of them broke it-"

"The D-formers, in their base state, are indestructible," the White Seraph said firmly. "You could attempt to crush it with the weight of the Earth it, and it would not suffer so much as a scratch. But the D-formers – particularly mine – are a reflection of one's self. If you have been doubting yourself, that could cause the D-former to weaken, and potentially fracture."

J.J. looked down at the broken jewel again, letting out a derisive laugh. "Well, that explains it," he muttered. A silence lingered between them for a few moments before he looked back up. "When I was attacked by Ryan – that orc – why did you save me? Why did you give me this D-former? You could have just taken the diary from me and let me die. If it's so important to you, why leave it in the hands of someone with no martial training, especially when it could fall into the hands of an agent of the Black Seraph after the battle was over?"

The White Seraph gazed at him quietly for a few moments before replying, "It's because of how you answered my question. Do you remember what I asked?"

J.J. paused for a moment, thinking back. "What do I desire, something like that?" he asked unsurely.

"Close enough, yes. And your answer was that you were happy as you were. Only one other person has ever given me that answer, and even then, your intent differed from his. It was exactly what I needed to hear to provide you with a D-former of my own design. I cannot modify your stats to give you a new role; I can only provide you with a reflection of who you are. Only someone who is content with himself can receive one of my D-formers, Thus, I was able to grant you one, even when I couldn't do so for the thousands of Almencians who approached me."

"Well… Your brother was advertised as being able to grant any wish, and it's not like people who didn't want anything had a reason to come seek you out," J.J. pointed out.

"True. But even then, I didn't give you the D-former with the intention of having you fight in this war. I had assumed that you would realize that the suit would allow you to flee. I didn't expect you to turn around and fight. Especially since, as you said, you are not a warrior," the White Seraph chuckled. "Furthermore, the diary's suit was not made for combat. It is, in terms of raw ability, far weaker than the other suits of armor Lord Quintus designed, as I'm sure you're aware of by now. To fight in it… to be honest, I thought it was sheer folly." To his surprise, the angel put her hand over her mask's mouth and started giggling.

"Oh, good, call me an idiot on top of everything," J.J. grumbled.

"But even then, you made it your own in ways I never expected," the White Seraph continued, lowering her hand. "Even I don't know all the functions of Lord Quintus' inventions. I had no idea his diary could integrate other D-formers and use them to modify a base D-former, and to do so safely on top of that. Your alternate forms gave you the versatility to effectively fight the Black Seraph in a way I never would have dreamed of. On your own, you developed a method that turned a far weaker auxiliary suit into a potent weapon with which to effectively fight my brother. You have exceeded every expectation I had for you when I first gave you your D-former."

J.J. flushed, despite himself. "Flatterer," he mumbled.

"I merely speak the truth," the White Seraph replied simply. "And with that being said, may I ask you a question?"

"Fair's fair," J.J. shrugged. "Shoot.

"Why do you refuse to take the title of Kamen Rider Page?" the Seraph asked.

J.J. felt as if he'd been hit with a brick. The question was so simple, and yet… for some reason, it struck deeper than almost any question he had ever been asked.

"It's… because I don't feel like I deserve it," J.J. replied slowly after several long moments of considering how he was going to answer her question. "Susumu told me that Kamen Riders are heroes, selfless warriors who work tirelessly to protect others and stop evil."

"And you don't feel that you've done that?" the White Seraph asked.

"Not to the degree that I'm comfortable calling myself a Kamen Rider, no," J.J. said. "How do I put this… I've always felt as if Kamen Rider Page isn't who I am. It's another persona, a mask that I put on when I need to fight. To me, fighting Diemons is a job. It's just something that I have to do, an obligation, rather than something that I'm doing for an altruistic reason. For a long time, no one else could, and I couldn't just stand by and let the Diemons hurt people. The entire time, though, I was wishing that someone else could take over so I could go back to my normal life."

"Such as Sir Tristan?" the White Seraph asked.

"Exactly," J.J. nodded. "This… this is his story, not mine. He's the Chosen One, the man who stopped the Black Seraph a thousand years ago and allowed himself to be sealed away so that he could do it all again. He's a hero, and fighting the Black Seraph is his life. I, on the other hand… I'm just a substitute, a stand-in to keep the war from escalating while no one is around to fight. And then I failed to even do that much when…." He felt his throat tighten up, and J.J. motioned towards Kelsie's gravestone.

"I see. That… would explain why your D-former broke, then," the White Seraph said. "I imagine that between your guilt over allowing this girl to die and the fact that Tristan donned his armor again, you lost your resolve to fight. Now, that's not to say that your D-former would have broken if you'd never taken up the sword, or even if you'd stepped down of your own free will. But with so much mental stress combined with the hope of relief from Tristan once again assuming the mantle of hero? You simply gave up, and your D-former responded to your desires by ensuring you didn't have to worry about transforming again."

J.J. felt a twinge of guilt as he looked down at the broken jewel again. "So… this is a reflection of my true feelings?" he murmured.

"At least it was in that moment, yes," the White Seraph said, kneeling in front of him. "However, I can fix it, if that's what you want."

"I… don't know," J.J. admitted, looking away.

"What's still troubling you? Tell me," the White Seraph implored him.

"…Kelsie died because of me," J.J. said slowly, his voice seizing up slightly. "I… don't know if I can handle anyone else dying on my watch."

"That's understandable," the White Seraph said sympathetically. "I will not force you to fight. As I said, I originally thought you would flee when I gave you the D-former, and you are not a soldier that I conscripted to fight for me. If you do so, it would be your choice."

J.J. nodded, looking away with a sigh. "I… look, I know that I should," he admitted. "But I completely failed her…."

"Did you learn something?" the White Seraph asked.

"What?" J.J. blinked, startled.

"You made a mistake, yes? You didn't understand how the D-formers worked, nor what the consequences of Apotheosis were," the White Seraph said. "Did you learn what happens when someone achieves Apotheosis? Would you work to ensure no one else had to die by your hand?"

"Of course!" J.J. sputtered.

"Then it wasn't a failure. It was a lesson," the White Seraph said firmly.

J.J. swallowed. She had a point, but he was still hesitating. If he said yes here, it meant that he was throwing away his last chance for a normal, peaceful life. Could he really-?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill scream, and J.J. immediately snapped his head around to see one of the women in the cemetery backing away from a pair of Shards. Their long claws were outstretched, advancing on her as she turned to run. Her heel caught on one of the tombstones, however, and she tripped, sprawling across the grass.

J.J. sprang to his feet, snapping his fingers as he did, and his quill immediately flew into his hand. He sprinted towards the woman, vaulting three rows of tombstones like they were hurdles, before skidding to a halt in front of the Shards, brandishing his sword in a fencing stance. As the first Shard swiped at him for interfering, he swayed backward, taking a single step back while jabbing at its hand. The blade nicked its rocky skin, opening a blue vein, which glowed dimly in the bright sunlight. The Shard didn't seem to notice as it brought its other hand around to swing at him, but J.J. ducked under the attack, kneeling down and thrusting forward. The point of his blade penetrated its rocky shell, and the Shard looked down at its torso for a moment before crumbling to dust.

The other Shard simply walked around J.J. while he was engaged with its compatriot, and slashed at the woman. J.J. swore and dove in the path of the attack, taking the blow on his left shoulder. The monster's claws tore effortlessly through his leather jacket and shirt, opening a bloody gash, but he gritted his teeth and shifted his weight forward. His blade slid cleanly through the monster's face, and he stared into its glowing blue eyes as the light went out and it fell apart in a heap of ash.

J.J. winced as he pushed himself up, looking down at the woman and holding his hand out to help her up. "You okay?" he asked softly.

"I'm… fine," she replied slowly. Then she looked up and saw the bright red lines on his shoulder. "You're hurt!"

"It's a scratch. I'll put a Band-aid on it when I go home," J.J. shrugged. "I'm more worried about you. Do you know why those Shards were after you?"

"Of course not!" the woman exclaimed. J.J. frowned, before peering at her a bit more closely.

"Weren't… you at one of those shows that medium put together recently?" J.J. asked. "Lawrence, right? Didn't he bring back one of your loved ones?"

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "My mother. Cynthia Andrew. It… it was nice to see her again, but I still wanted to come visit her today. He said he got rid of her ghost, but I believe she'll always be with me, and I don't _want_ to give up my memories of her." She frowned at him, before adding, "Did… those creatures have something to do with it?" Then her eyes widened. "Oh god, he didn't send them after me because I visited her grave, did he?!"

"No, I don't think so," J.J. assured her quickly. He'd never heard of a Diemon doing such a thing, and Lawrence had seemed more concerned with image than anything else. He didn't seem the sort to send Shards after someone for visiting a graveyard.

"Good… good," she said, sounding relieved. "And they're gone now, so I'm not going to worry about it. Thank you for saving me! The way you fought those things… I've never seen anything like it!"

"I was just lucky," J.J. said modestly.

"That was more than luck," she smiled in reply. "I'm going to head home. Please take care of yourself. And get that gash patched up."

"Right," J.J. nodded. The woman waved, before turning and heading out of the cemetery, leaving J.J. standing by himself. Gingerly, he touched his wounded shoulder and winced.

"Impressive," the White Seraph commented, floating towards him. J.J. glanced over his shoulder at her, quirking his mouth for a moment before looking down.

"I… wasn't going to let her get hurt," he muttered.

"And sometimes that's enough. But I want to point out that it was _you_ who saved her," the White Seraph replied. "Even without your suit, you still jumped in without hesitation. That wasn't Kamen Rider Page fighting. That was you."

J.J. looked away ruefully, feeling a swell of pride in his chest that he quickly suppressed. He let out a long, slow breath, before looking up at the White Seraph again.

"You said you could fix my D-former," J.J. addressed her.

"I can," she nodded. "Is that what you want?"

"…Yes," J.J. said finally, feeling as if a weight had just been laid over his shoulders again. However, he straightened his back against it, a look of resolve in his eyes.

"Very well. If that's your decision," the White Seraph said. She held out her hand, and J.J. placed the D-former in it. The angel closed her fingers around the jewel, and for a few moments, her hand glowed with a blinding white light. When it was finished, she took his hand and placed the amber D-former in his palm. J.J. held it up to the sunlight and briefly inspected it. There was no sign that the gem had ever been fractured.

"With this, you should once again be able to access your suit," the White Seraph explained. "However, take care not to let it break again. I… only have so much power, and repairing a D-former costs quite a bit of energy. I'm not sure if I can do that again."

"Well, then I'm going to go stress-test this D-former, see how much it can take before it breaks again. Maybe drive a steamroller over it, see how that turns out," J.J. quipped. He pulled his diary out of his pocket, pushing the D-former into the central slot once more, before looking down and shaking his head. "Still… this doesn't solve my most recent problem. I'm going to have to fight Lawrence again, but I don't have a form that's got an effective counter to ghosts."

"Have you considered-?" the White Seraph began, but she was interrupted by his quill flying out of his hand and nudging open the diary to a blank page.

 _The recent repairs to your D-former have caused it to interact with this diary in an unexpected way,_ the quill scribbled furiously across the page. _I will provide an outline that may provide a solution for your most recent battle. If you would turn to this page…._

J.J. and the White Seraph traded looks of surprise, and when the quill was finished explaining, the White Seraph shook her head in amazement. "Lord Quintus truly crafted wonders," she murmured reverently. "Even after all this time, I still don't fully understand all the functions of his inventions."

"This… might work, actually," J.J. nodded, smiling at the quill. "Thanks for pointing that out."

 _I merely provide information as it becomes available,_ the quill said modestly.

J.J. snapped the diary shut before looking down. "That said, the fact that he can control the dead is still a problem."

"I very much doubt that he can," the White Seraph said. "If he possessed that kind of power, my brother would not allow him to keep it. He would take it for himself and use it to revive the entire Almencian population."

"Then what's the source of his powers?" J.J. asked. "I can't look it up the diary since I didn't land a hit on him."

"I am unsure, but I did sense that the girl had some magical residue on her, as if she had interacted with a spell," the White Seraph replied. "Magic has multiple elements that can be used to shape spells. Fire, ice, wind, shadows, water…."

"Shadows…" J.J. said thoughtfully, biting his cheek. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he glanced down at his diary. "Wait… I've got it. I know how his powers work. And the diary's just given me the perfect way to counter them."

"Oh? Do you have a plan?" the White Seraph asked. A soft, amused giggle escaped from behind her mask.

"Yeah. I feel like I have a good shot at beating him this time," J.J. nodded.

"Then I shall take my leave," the White Seraph said. She turned to leave, but J.J. reached out and touched her shoulder.

"Before you go… thank you," he said softly. "You… really helped me today."

"I merely illuminated a few things," the Seraph replied humbly. "You were the one who made all the decisions. I just hope you don't regret them."

"I'm not allowed to now," J.J. smiled grimly. "Anyways, I've got a con artist to expose."

"Good luck," the White Seraph nodded, and J.J. hurried to his bike, turning it on and climbing onto the seat. While he didn't know where Lawrence was, he could guess. If the news had reported that Shards were congregating near the retirement home, odds were good that they were being drawn to Lawrence's power. With that in mind, he pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the highway.

Thankfully, the retirement home was easy to find. It was just a few blocks from the cemetery, a complex that was the size of a small campus populated by about a hundred of Marville's older citizens. As he pulled up, J.J. saw that about a half dozen of them were cowering before the lich hovering over them like a specter of death. The lich Diemon was addressing one of the men, his bony hands folded behind his back. Off to one side, Tristan was holding off a hoard of Shards, but his movements were sluggish. J.J. immediately dismounted from his bike and began sprinting towards the small crowd. When he was close enough, he could hear Lawrence addressing them.

"Now then, Murray, you said that your wife was your greatest treasure? Do you not wish to see her again?"

"Please! Don't summon her!" Murray pleaded.

"I'm confused," Lawrence said, tilting his head. "Why not? Surely your wife was everything."

"She was!" Murray agreed. "But my memories of her are enough! I don't want to disturb her rest! She went peacefully, and to drag her back here…."

"Come now, you're being unreasonable, my friend," Lawrence said, holding one hand out in entreaty. "All you need give me is a name-"

"Do not… surrender… a name, citizen," Tristan panted, bashing a Shard over the head with his mace before sagging and clutching his chest. Lawrence lazily looked over his shoulder, and with a wave of his hand, another specter appeared. Its indistinct shape flew through Tristan's body, and the knight let out a strangled cry, falling to one knee.

"This is not the time for audience participation," Lawrence said calmly. "Wait there. Unless you wish to see the ghosts of your own past?"

"They are… too numerous… for you to produce," Tristan said somberly. This seemed to pique the lich's interest, and he turned around, starting to float towards Tristan.

"Try me," he said softly.

"I… have naught more… to say… to you, Diemon," Tristan hissed.

"No? Very well, then," Lawrence shrugged, flicking his fingers at another Shard. "You may have him."

Tristan slowly raised his shield as the Shard advanced on him, raising one claw to strike him down. J.J. snapped his fingers as he closed the last few feet, and his quill flew into his hand. Immediately, he clicked it into its sword form, and as he skidded in front of the Shard, he flicked his wrist and cut through the Shard's torso, dropping it to the ground, where it collapsed in a pile of ash. Everyone present stared at the fallen beast, before looking up at J.J., who gave his sword a little twirl and stood in front of Tristan, un-morphed, with a hard look in his eyes.

"Ah… I remember you," Lawrence said. "I'm surprised to see you here. Didn't I already destroy your suit?"

"You did," J.J. replied calmly. "Doesn't matter." He then glanced over his shoulder at Tristan. "Are you alright?"

"If I said I was, that would be dishonest," Tristan admitted, slowly climbing to his feet. "I am ill-equipped to deal with his specters, I am afraid. But what of you? It is dangerous for you to be here without your suit."

"About that," J.J. grinned, reaching his other hand into his pocket to pull out his diary. Tristan glanced at the repaired jewel, and he tilted his head.

"How…?" he asked.

"It took some reflection, but I got it fixed," J.J. replied. "But… even if it wasn't, I'd probably have come here to help you. If I didn't, it would be unworthy of the title of Kamen Rider."

"Oh? Have you finally decided to accept that you are Page?" Tristan asked, perking up.

"No," J.J. said simply.

"Oh…." Tristan said, deflating immediately, his shoulders sagging. "That is… disappointing."

"But from now on, I'm going to actively try to live up to that name," J.J. continued, turning his attention back to Lawrence. "I'm going to work to become the hero that Kelsie wanted me to be. Not because I have to, but because I want to do the right thing and protect people. So that one day, I can say with pride that I truly deserve to bear the title of Kamen Rider Page."

"Hm! That is quite noble of you, page," Tristan nodded. "I must admit, I have a new measure of respect for you." J.J. winked in reply.

"Excuse me, but if you two are _quite_ finished?" Lawrence snapped. "I have an audience to entertain, and I don't need any more distractions."

"Sorry," J.J. said, holding his diary up to his left cheek. "But this is gonna be your last performance." He glanced at the diary and whispered to it, "Please work. Henshin!" he called out.

To his relief, his Driver appeared around his waist. A grin spread across his lips again, and he snapped the diary shut before sliding it into the central belt buckle. He gave the amber D-former a spin, and his Driver triumphantly shouted, **"Adventure: Begin!"** Trumpets blared as an amber die surrounded J.J., and it spun around him rapidly as he was covered in his leather armor. When the spinning stopped, he pointed his sword at Lawrence. He couldn't keep from grinning behind his helmet; he'd never thought he'd be so happy to be wearing his armor again.

"It would seem everything is in working order," Tristan commented from behind him. "While that is excellent, we are still in a difficult situation. We still lack a viable method for dispatching those specters Lawrence summons."

"Actually… I have a new trick I want to try," J.J. replied, while Lawrence began floating towards them. "If you don't mind leaving him to me, could you keep the Shards off my back?"

Tristan tilted his head, before nodding. "As you wish. I must say, it is surprising to see you this confident, page."

"I'm in a good mood," J.J. replied. Tristan nodded, taking a deep breath before heavily running over to hold off a half-dozen Shards that still remained.

"Brave of you, standing alone against the avatar of death," Lawrence said, holding his hands out. "I command legions of spirits. Do you truly think you can stand against that?"

"Well… we'll get to that," J.J. said calmly, lowering his sword and putting his hand on his belt. "I'll admit, your ability to summon spirits is tough to deal with. But… everything has a counter. And it just so happens that I've picked up a new ability that's your antithesis."

J.J. put two fingers on his diary, one resting on his red D-former and the other on his black. He took a deep breath, before spinning both at the same time. The regal voice of his Driver shouted into the open air, **"Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!"** His body was surrounded by a new die formation, one that was half red, half black, and as they began to spin, they coalesced into a single silver die while a pipe organ played several long, droning notes. J.J. closed his eyes as the jewel spun around him, and when the spinning stopped, he was standing calmly in front of Lawrence in a new set of armor.

His torso was now protected by a light grey sleeveless tabard, under which he wore a suit of shining silver chainmail, and below that his black body suit. His hands were still protected by black gloves, backed by ring mail. The tabard extended to J.J.'s thighs, and his Driver remained strapped around his waist. A chainmail skirt also covered his thighs under the tabard, while his kneecaps and shins were protected by a set of steel greaves. His boots were also capped with polish silver steel. His helmet, meanwhile, was mostly a light grey color, save for the black shield of his faceplate, and the trapezoidal eye-holes were made of what seemed to be grey diamond. Over each of his ears was a stylized wing, giving him an angelic appearance. His sword had changed shape as well, as he now gripped an elegant halberd in his right hand, the blade also stylized to resemble a pair of oustretched wings.

Lawrence gazed at J.J. silently, before shaking his head. "A new form does not preclude victory. And I know just how to hit you hardest." He swept his arm out, and the specter of Kelsie appeared in front of J.J., looking up at him with pleading blue eyes.

"Page… don't fight!" she implored him. "You don't want anyone else to get hurt! You know you can't handle losing someone else! After all, it was all your fault that I died!"

J.J. slowly looked down at the shade, then he reached out and gently laid his hand on her head, smiling behind his mask. "Yes, it was," he agreed softly. "And I will never be able to apologize for that, nor take it back. But what I can do now is ensure that no one else has to suffer your fate. And from now on, with this new form… you can finally fight with me. That's what you always wanted, right?"

The specter tilted its head in confusion. J.J. closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, and his halberd began to glow with a brilliant silver-white light. "Rest now, Kelsie," he said softly. "I've got someone else who needs saving, and I won't let him achieve Apotheosis."

J.J. pulled his hand back, gripping his halberd tightly. He grit his teeth, bringing his halberd over his shoulder, and he slashed through the shade in a single, fluid movement. The light left a glowing diagonal line across Kelsie's chest, which began spreading across the shade, enveloping it, before its form shattered in a collection of white fractals. Lawrence's grinning jaw dropped, and he took a step back, shocked. "…How?!" he rasped.

J.J. looked up and lowered his hand, smirking behind his helmet. The answer lay in what his diary had revealed to him when he had been talking to the White Seraph.

* * *

 _The system currently recognizes the central D-former as intact, yet not at the same time,_ his quill explained as it danced across the page. _Currently, both one and two D-formers are simultaneously registered as being used as power sources through which alternate D-formers may be channeled. Thus, we may be able to create a new form that is a hybrid of existing D-formers, balancing out their strengths and weaknesses while providing new abilities._

"How… is that possible?" J.J. asked warily, looking up at the White Seraph. She shrugged, clearly as baffled as he was.

 _If you require a new form that can counter your most recent foe, it may be synthesized from a Diemon's stat page that has not already been tied to an existing form,_ the diary continued. _You cannot use the ice golem or the vampire, for instance, but if there is a page in this diary that is not already in use…._

J.J. swallowed hard, opening up his diary and flipping over to the Pegasus stat page that had been Kelsie's final form. "Kelsie… wanted to be a hero more than anyone else," he said softly. He could feel his eyes starting to itch again. "Her Diemon form was created so that she could fight evil Diemons. Do you think we could use that as the base?"

 _That would be ideal,_ the quill agreed. _Allow me a bit of time. You have more than enough saved stat points to put into this new form, so its creation should be easy. Its final abilities, however, you shall have to discover for yourself._

"I'm willing to do that," J.J. nodded. They waited in silence for several long minutes as the diary worked. Once it finished, it gave him a short vibration.

 _The new form has been completed,_ the diary explained. _It is a hybrid of the Warrior and Mage Classes, and will prove particularly effective against those that rely on darkness. To access its magical aspect, however, you will require an emotion associated with the previous wielder, just like with Mage Class and its reliance on fury._

J.J. nodded biting his lower lip. "Well… if Agni's powers were activated by anger… the emotion that defined Kelsie would be…"

* * *

"Resolve," J.J. said calmly, gazing down at the halberd. "Kelsie wanted so badly to be a hero, and she never once wavered in her pursuit of that goal. That desire to ensure that evil didn't threaten her city and those she cared about… that's what she entrusted to me," he added, looking up at the lich. "Thanks to her, I'm going to do my damnedest to ensure my own resolve doesn't waver again."

"Impossible…!" Lawrence whispered, taking another step back.

"We don't have to fight," J.J. said, holding his own hand out in entreaty. "Lawrence, you're not a bad person for wanting to see your parents again, nor for wanting to give people another chance to say goodbye to their loved ones. Using a D-former, though, isn't the way to do that. It's consuming you. I want to help you, and I really don't want to fight you. So please… power down and surrender your D-former."

"You can't be serious!" Lawrence screeched. "I am the avatar of death, and no mere mortal can stand against me! If you want my power so badly, come take it!"

"…Yeah. That's how I figured this was going to turn out," J.J. sighed, reluctantly hefting his halberd over his shoulder. "Fine, then. Alea iacta est."

Lawrence jumped backwards about twenty feet, waving his arm at J.J., and a trio of indistinct spirits flew towards him, screeching unearthly wails. J.J. hefted his halberd over his shoulder as they approached, and as the blade began glowing white again, he swung it in a long, sweeping arc. The blade cleaved effortlessly through the trio of spirits, and they passed through him harmlessly before shattering in a shower of white fractals behind him. Lawrence let out a hiss of annoyance as J.J. continued to gaze at him calmly.

"How dare you desecrate the spirits of the dead?!" Lawrence screamed at him. "Murray, one of those was your wife! This young man just-!"

"Yeah, about that," J.J. interrupted. "You're not summoning the dead, so you can stop with that charade."

Lawrence stopped mid-rant, staring down at him. "I beg your pardon?"

J.J. was unable to keep the smug smile off his face. "I was told by… a reliable source that your powers don't involve summoning the dead. Rather, you're just using shadow-elemental magic."

"Meaning what?" Lawrence sneered.

"Meaning those ghosts you're throwing at us aren't ghosts at all. They're just illusions. Probably shadows shaped to look like people. Also explains why they hurt so much – you're hitting us with a magic spell, which I'd imagine probably does as much damage as any of my fireballs." He tapped his diary and added, "I'm going to bet that the way it works is similar to my own diary. If I have a name, I can look up someone's stats. Every time you wanted to summon a ghost, you needed a name first. That's because the name provided your D-former with an appearance, and from there you could shape your shadows to look like people. That sound about right?" Lawrence's furious growl was all he needed as confirmation. J.J. smirked at him from behind his helmet as he lowered his head slightly. "Like I thought, you're just a charlatan."

Above them came a familiar cackling laugh, and J.J. looked up to see the Fool sitting on the edge of the roof of the home. "Oooh, very clever! It's clearly gotten its legs back under it!" the Fool giggled. "And it's even wearing a pretty new costume, too! But that shouldn't matter, should it, Lawrence? Even if it knows how your powers work, stopping them is something different altogether. Merely keep your distance and you'll be fine."

"Of course!" Lawrence laughed, and he began floating in the air, pointing his staff at J.J. "Try reaching me up here wearing that heavy armor!"

J.J. responded by taking a few steps back to get a running start, before leaping into the air. Lawrence's laughter immediately stopped as J.J. met him about fifteen feet above the ground. With a yell, he brought his halberd over his head and cleaved downward. Lawrence barely managed to block the attack with his staff, but the sheer force of the blow sent him hurtling to the ground. He landed hard on the asphalt, bouncing once before crumbling in a heap. A few feet away, J.J. landed lightly on his feet and gave his halberd a short twirl.

"Oh?" the Fool asked, his voice dangerously soft. "This is new."

J.J. smiled to himself, looking down at his diary again. The main advantage of Paladin Class wasn't an increase in strength. When it came to raw, physical power, Warrior Class had a bit of an edge, and if a fight devolved into a flat-footed slugfest, it was the better choice. Paladin Class, however, mitigated many of Warrior Class's weaknesses. His speed and mobility had been increased so that they were just below his base class, while his raw strength was still only a little below Warrior Class. Furthermore, Paladin Class also let him augment his attacks with light-elemental magic – though doing so was tiring, as he'd quickly discovered – and when combined with his improved speed, his attacks could generally deal more damage than when he was in Warrior Class, especially since now he had a better chance to connect with them too. Furthermore, while he was somewhat unfamiliar with a halberd, it was close enough to both a hammer and a staff that he could already use it without much difficulty.

Behind him, J.J. could hear Tristan hammering away at a pair of Shards, and he glanced over his shoulder for a moment to watch. One clawed at his shield, but Tristan blocked the attack effortlessly, and when the sharp claws curled into its rim, Tristan smashed them with his hammer, breaking its fingers to bits. He then drove his spiked shield into its chest before clubbing it across the face. The Shard crumbled to dust, while Tristan panted, sagging from the effort. This battle had clearly taken a toll on him, and J.J. felt a twinge of guilt for not having come to help him sooner.

"Do you want a hand?" J.J. asked quickly.

"You can help… by dispatching… our foe," Tristan said between heavy breaths. "Focus on… one task, page. Your enemy… is before you. Finish this."

J.J. turned back around in time to see Lawrence launch another formless shadow at him. J.J. cleaved through it, stepping through the attack and running forward, quickly closing the distance. Lawrence hissed and tried to take to the air again, but J.J. reached up and hooked his staff with his halberd and yanked down, sending Lawerence to the ground again. He followed this up by jabbing at Lawrence with the butt end of his weapon. The attack caught the lich in the chest, and Lawrence grunted, staggering back to try and get some distance. J.J., however, pressed the attack, using his momentum to deliver a pair of elegant slashes followed by a piercing, one handed thrust with the point of his weapon. Lawrence managed to block the slashes, but he was caught off-guard by the thrust, which slammed into his sternum. He clutched his chest again, wheezing.

"Enough of this!" he shouted, holding his hands out. J.J. looked around him as shadows materialized around him, encircling him in a tight ring. Lawrence smirked at him.

"I've been watching those anti-magic attacks you're using," he growled. "You can only maintain them for a second or so. Good luck blocking all these spirits at once!"

As the ghosts reached for him, J.J. put his fingers on the red and black D-formers and gave them a quick spin. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and he was surrounded by a spinning silver die that repelled the attacking ghosts, giving him a few feet of space. The die then coalesced on the blade of his halberd, making it shine a brilliant, pulsing, silver-white color, different from his usual attacks. J.J. let out a short yell as he gripped the halberd and spun in a short, tight circle, swinging his polearm as he did. The magic clinging to his weapon followed the path of his attack, slicing outward in a ring of white light, which cut through all the ghosts at once.

The magic also tore through Lawrence's staff and clean through his body, bisecting him. The lich looked down at his body in shock, and then he let out a scream as the shining silver line turned purple and began to spread across his body in jagged cracks, splintering across his body like shattering ice. The glowing eyes of the lich fixated on J.J. as they dimmed, before J.J. turned around to see if Tristan needed help. Thankfully, the knight had already finished off the last of the Shards. J.J. pulled his diary out of his belt, reverting to his base form, and watched Lawrence's health bar drop to nothing, at which point he heard a ghostly wail as his form shattered into a thousand fractals. J.J. snapped the diary shut, then immediately sprinted towards Lawrence. The Fool had already jumped off the roof and was reaching out for the D-former, but J.J. snatched it and the stat sheet off the ground. As soon as the purple D-former was in his gloved hand, it shattered as well, and J.J. tilted his hand to let the Fool see the broken pieces as they tumbled to the ground.

"…At least we got to witness a new act, we suppose," the Fool commented, though there was a slight quiver to his voice that underlined his annoyance. "That will do as compensation for robbing us of our prize. This time. We would warn it to consider carefully how much it wishes to interfere from now on, however," the Fool added.

"Yeah, that's still something I'm working out too," J.J. admitted, dusting his hands off casually. "I'll get back to you once I have it figured out."

"Cheeky," the Fool said. Shrugging, it tossed a wave, then leapt effortlessly thirty feet into the air and departed, bouncing across the rooftops as it did.

Tristan let out a weary sigh and pulled his central D-former out of his shield, canceling his transformation. He jogged over to J.J., who was already doing the same.

"That was an impressive feat, page," Tristan praised him. "But a most unexpected one. How did you…?"

"I'll give you the full story later," J.J. promised him. "For now, we have to deal with him," he added, glancing at Lawrence.

Lawrence had been kneeling on the ground, staring at the shattered remains of his D-former. When J.J. approached, he looked up with blank, hopeless eyes. "…Why?" he asked hoarsely.

J.J. knelt in front of him, meeting his gaze. "Lawrence… everyone who's lost someone wishes they had a little more time to speak to them." Behind him, Tristan nodded in agreement, looking pensive. "Your desire is understandable, and I don't fault you for it. I also believe you did it so that you could bring others some measure of peace and comfort too, right?"

"I… did, yes," Lawrence admitted. "Then why take that from them?"

"Because it's not real. Plus, even if it was, using that D-former would have eventually killed you. How would you bring people comfort then?" J.J. asked serenely.

Lawrence looked down, guilt written on his face, before asking softly, "Then what would you have me do?"

"Stop conning people, for one," J.J. said, unable to keep the dry edge out of his voice. "And maybe instead of doing this, consider becoming a counselor instead?"

Lawrence looked away, chuckling. "That… might not be a bad idea, actually."

"Ah… but consider that after you're done dealing with the judicial system," J.J. added as he heard sirens approaching. "Maybe they'll let you learn counseling while you're serving your sentence. Probably community service, if I had to guess."

"No chance you could let me off with a warning?" Lawrence asked half-hopefully.

"Sorry. I'm trying to follow a new path myself," J.J. said, holding his hand out to pull the man to his feet. "And part of that is doing what's right. Right now, that's letting the courts decide your punishment. That's not my role."

"Then what is your role?" Lawrence asked.

"Apparently, looking out for people who make stupid decisions," J.J. replied drily, smirking faintly as Sergeant Eaton approached them.

* * *

"I'm still annoyed you took so long to come clean about what you were doing, you know," Gary said as he set a tray of drinks on the large table where the main members of J.J.'s roleplaying group were seated, save for Gwen. The rest of the tavern was empty; Gary had closed it for a couple hours so they could all celebrate J.J.'s latest victory, and to get a private gaming session in.

"Like I said, I didn't want you to have to get yourself wrapped up in all this if you didn't want to," J.J. protested. "I wasn't doing it because I like seeing you suffer."

"Tell that to our characters," Ryan muttered.

"I wish I could've seen that Paladin Class, though," Agni commented, sipping a cup of coffee while looking down at the game board.

"I can always show you, if you want," J.J. shrugged.

"Not here, please," Gary piped up.

"See! That right there! That's why I didn't want to let you in on this!" J.J. cried, pointing at Gary, though his grin emphasized that he was teasing.

"You said this new method of transforming was Multiclassing?" Abby asked, idly turning a die around between her fingers. J.J. nodded in response.

"You do know that a paladin isn't a multiclass," Ryan chimed in. "It's a base class, not-"

"I'm running a game, Ryan," J.J. interrupted, scowling. "Of course I know that."

"And if you think about it, it's not a hybrid of a fighter and wizard, either," Ryan continued pedantically. "It's more like a cross between a fighter and a cleric-"

"Yeah, well I don't have a Cleric Class, do I?" J.J. groused. "I didn't make up the name. Blame the diary if you want to blame something. Very loosely, you can argue that a paladin is a cross between a fighter and a mage. No, it doesn't work perfectly, but don't think too hard about it."

"Touchy, are we not?" Tristan commented.

"I'm not-!" J.J. began to respond, but then the door opened, distracting him. As he looked over, he saw Gwen standing in the doorway, holding her arms.

"I… was told that there's a game today," she said softly, not looking at J.J.

"Yeah… there is. Glad you got my text," J.J. said, walking over to her. "But… there's something I want to say first."

"Oh?" Gwen asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

J.J. sighed and looked down. "I've… been having a really hard time these last few weeks, and I'm sorry that I've been short with you. I also wanted to thank you for sticking with me in spite of how temperamental I've been. I really appreciate you coming over to check up on me and helping to take care of things while I've been out of it."

"Well… I couldn't just let you suffer alone," Gwen murmured.

"More than that, though, I've recently come to realize that I've been doing things halfway, both with regards to fighting Diemons and in my personal life. Now, I want to commit more fully to fighting Diemons, but also to what matters to me outside of fighting. And that includes you." J.J. reached down and suddenly pulled Gwen closer. She looked up at him, bewildered, as he leaned down and pressed his lips sweetly but firmly to hers. Behind him, he heard the other regulars catcalling playfully, but he ignored them. Gwen was too surprised to react at first, but a few moments later she relaxed and accepted the kiss, even reciprocating it with a firm push of her own lips. When the pulled back, J.J. grinned as he caught a faint pink tinge on her cheeks.

"Now, let me ask this properly: Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked her softly.

"Little late for you to be asking that now," Gwen muttered, unable to keep a sheepish smile off her face. "Of course, you idiot. Now get off me, before they start taking pictures," she added, pushing him away playfully. He responded by grinning at her wickedly.

"You two done?" Gary asked, taking a seat at the table while the others continued to grin at J.J. and Gwen teasingly. "You promised us a game, so get to it, dungeon master."

"Right, sorry," J.J. nodded, opening up his books and setting them in front of them. "Now, last time, you had finally gotten ahold of the real princess, when she told you that the vizier wasn't evil all along. In fact, it was the jester who…."


	24. Session 24

**Session 24**

"You must react faster, Page," Tristan said, his voice echoing slightly from behind his helmet as he swung his mace at J.J. "You continue to hesitate when you cannot afford to."

J.J. swayed backward and jabbed his halberd at Tristan, growling in frustration as the knight batted the attack away before advancing. J.J. leaped ten feet into the air and landed a few yards away, trying to put some distance between himself and his attacker. Tristan shook his head in disappointment as he continued his inexorable, plodding advance.

The pair were sparring in front of Susumu's garage, but unlike their normal training sessions, they were both wearing their Rider armor, with Tristan clad in his blue plate armor and J.J. protected by the silver armor of Paladin Class. Once he had recovered from his fight with Lawrence, Tristan had asked to test the abilities of J.J.'s newest form. Evidently, Tristan was impressed, as he'd immediately insisted that J.J. devote as much time as possible towards mastering Paladin Class, to the exclusion of his other forms. At first, J.J. had complied without complaint, but this was now the fifth straight day that Tristan had dragged him off for training, and it was beginning to take a toll on his body. He was constantly sore, both from the accumulated bruises and the strain of constantly training with the armor on. Much to his annoyance, he also hadn't had time to work on his novel, or even patrol the city for Shards. Yet Tristan kept insisting they train.

A hard strike to J.J.'s shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and J.J. grunted before stumbling away, gripping his arm while he sucked in breath through his teeth. Tristan shook his head again and sighed, straightening up.

"Focus. You are not using your form to its full potential, page," Tristan chastised him. "Paladin Class is magnificent. I daresay it is superior to any of your other classes, and once you master it, I would recommend using it as your main battle class. It would save you from needlessly shifting forms in battle, as you are wont to do."

J.J. scowled. For some reason, he almost felt insulted by Tristan's comment, as it seemed to be insinuating that his other forms paled in comparison to Paladin Class, almost to the point of uselessness, which in turn seemed to suggest the fighting style he'd relied on for months was now useless. Yet, despite Paladin Class's supposed power, he still had yet to land a solid hit on the knight while in his transformed state, which just added to his frustration. "Praise be to the White Seraph, then, for she hath delivered from on high a form that shall deliver me from sucking in battle," J.J. said bitingly.

"I hope that you are not sincerely directing praise towards one of those damned constructs," Tristan warned him, lowering his voice to a slight growl. "It would be unwise to trust them."

"I never said that I trusted her either," J.J. replied. He decided to seize the opportunity to keep Tristan talking, hoping to enjoy a quick break. At the same time, he urged his brain to get in gear and work out a plan. If he bought enough time, maybe he could figure out a way to finally land a solid hit on Tristan. "I trust her even less than the Black Seraph. At least we kind of have an idea about what he wants. The White Seraph is still an enigma, and that worries me far more. She says that she wants to stop her brother, and if that's true then we're at least pursuing the same goal, but I can't help but wonder if she has her own stake in this that goes beyond altruism."

"It is wise of you to remain suspicious, but I do not believe it is worth the effort to attempt to divine her intentions," Tristan replied. "Mere speculation will not produce results. I would recommend you focus on what we know shall defeat the Seraphs – martial strength. If we are strong enough to best them in battle, all other problems become moot."

"Do they, though?" J.J. countered thoughtfully. "I mean… what do we really know about them? Let's put the White Seraph aside for the moment. What about the Black Seraph? Suppose we took everything Agnar said as truth, and he just wants to restore Almencia. What does that really mean? Would he revive the entire population? Rebuild the island? How would he do that? Is there some magical artifact he could use to do that? What if-?"

"This is why I said speculation is fruitless, page," Tristan insisted, a slight growl once more edging its way into his voice. "Perfect what can be perfected. Attempting to guess the motives of our opponents will drive you mad, as there are infinite possibilities."

From their left, Susumu laughed, sipping a glass of lemonade as he sat in one of the lawn chairs, watching the pair. "I think it's the opposite for J.J., Tristan," Susumu piped up. " _Not_ thinking about it would drive him mad. J.J.'s the type who's not happy unless he has all the facts."

"You're not wrong," J.J. admitted with a shrug. Tristan lowered his head slightly, pressing his palm to his faceplate in exasperation.

"Right now, I do not wish for you to think. Act," Tristan insisted, banging his shield with his mace before dropping into a fighting stance again.

J.J. bit back a complaint as he dropped into a fighting stance as well, holding his halberd in front of him as he crept forward, looking for an opening in Tristan's defense. He had noticed that while the large shield protected most of the knight's front, it didn't completely protect his legs, and he decided to try and exploit that. He darted forward, delivering a slash that reached beyond the shield, as he tried to hook the halberd around Tristan's ankle so he could trip him. Tristan, however, realized what J.J. was doing and slammed his shield into the ground, causing the shaft of J.J.'s weapon to bounce off the edge of his shield harmlessly before he could reach Tristan's leg.

Because of the recoil, J.J. was thrown slightly off-balance, and Tristan took the opportunity to reach out and strike at J.J. again. This time, however, J.J. responded before the counter came, raising his halberd in a defensive position. The mace bounced off the haft, but Tristan pressed the attack, slamming two more heavy attacks on J.J.'s weapon to keep him from recovering. J.J. backpedaled, jabbing at Tristan while trying to gain some distance. At last, the knight let him go. At best, the exchange was a draw, and J.J. knew he was lucky to even get that much.

"Better," Tristan praised him.

"Thanks," J.J. said grudgingly. "But still not good enough, right?"

"Sadly, no," Tristan confirmed.

J.J. sighed softly. Off to the side, Susumu sat forward a bit, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them as he continued to watch.

"This class _is_ good, you're right about that," J.J. said slowly. "But this isn't how I'd fight in an actual battle. You have a clear edge over me, and Paladin class isn't strong enough to overcome the physical stat difference. If this was an actual fight, I'd switch to a different form to get an advantage."

Tristan lowered his head slightly, and J.J. could almost feel Tristan's annoyed expression from behind his helmet. "Then that merely means that you lack experience. With enough training, you would be able to defeat me with any weapon. And the only way you shall accumulate the experience is through constant practice."

"Yeah, and I don't disagree that I need more work. In all my forms, not just this one," J.J. agreed quickly, and Tristan seemed slightly mollified by the admission. "However… right now, since I don't have the experience necessary to beat you, I have to compensate in other ways. And as Susumu said, I'm better at out-thinking my opponent. Would you mind if, for the last couple minutes of today's session, we sparred one more time, but you allowed me to use any class I wished?"

Tristan hesitated, seeming uncomfortable with the idea. "I… do not see how that is conducive to helping you master Paladin Class," he said slowly.

"It's not, but if you want me to practice how I'm actually going to fight, this'd be the best way to do it, right?" J.J. pointed out. "If one thing wasn't working, I'd try something else."

Tristan hedged for a few more moments, before sighing and raising his shield. "Very well," he said slowly. "Attempt to strike me however you please. Know, however, that I shall not hold back either, if this is truly meant to be a simulation of battle."

"Of course," J.J. nodded. He knew Tristan was probably going to knock him around some more, but he was getting frustrated. At least with this little last-minute spar, he could blow off a bit of steam. He figured he could think of it as a scrimmage in a sport – constantly scrimmaging wouldn't improve a person's performance, but occasionally doing so would help gauge how much someone had learned, and also serve to point out flaws that they needed to work on in an actual situation. Plus, it was good for morale. At least, that's what he was telling himself. He made a silent promise not to keep asking for this, though, as Tristan did seem miffed by the request.

The two stared at each other silently for a long moment, before J.J. put his hand on his black D-former and gave it a quick spin. **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his D-former shouted. He was engulfed in an opal crystal as chimes echoed in the air. As soon as he began transforming, Tristan rushed him, but J.J. had been expecting the knight to charge. He immediately kicked off from the ground, using his superior mobility to get a bit of distance, and as soon as the crystal surrounding him disappeared, he pointed his staff at Tristan and released a stream of freezing water at the knight. Tristan immediately halted and raised his shield, but J.J. kept up the attack, aiming specifically at Tristan's legs and the bottom of his shield.

When the attack was finished, Tristan's lower half was caked in ice. The knight scowled and began pulling his shield out of the ice, but before he could, J.J. grit his teeth and shot a fireball towards the knight. The flame connected with the ice, releasing a mist that engulfed the area around Tristan, blinding him. J.J. grinned, putting his hand on his blue D-former next.

" **Reroll! Class: Thief!"** the D-former shouted, and as a saxophone blared, J.J. was surrounded by a blue die, which turned his staff into a pair of daggers and morphed his black tunic into a blue jacket before he hit the ground. He tried to take advantage of Tristan's predicament by charging him, but Tristan had recovered faster than he expected. As the blue die around him faded, he nearly ran headlong into Tristan's spiked shield. He ducked out of the way, skidding around behind Tristan to deliver a pair of slashes with both hands, but Tristan anticipated the move and simply blocked the blows before swinging his mace at J.J., who ducked under the attack and stepped back.

"Predictable," Tristan warned him. "You should-!"

" **Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** J.J.'s Driver shouted, interrupting Tristan as a ruby die enveloped him and war drums played. The holographic crystal collided with Tristan, throwing the knight backward and breaking his guard. As close as he was, J.J. was able to follow up without worrying about Warrior Class's reduced speed. He brought his hammer up just as the ruby die faded around him, and he slammed it into Tristan's shield. The knight was barely able to block the blow, but he let out a sharp cry as his arm went limp. J.J. was about to follow it up with another attack, but he hesitated at the shout of pain.

"Sorry!" J.J. cried quickly, lowering his hammer. "Are you alright?"

"My wrist… is a bit strained," Tristan admitted, rubbing it through his armor and holding his hand up. "Let us desist for now."

"Right, sorry about that," J.J. said again. He'd meant to fight aggressively, but he hadn't been trying to hurt Tristan.

"Are you satisfied, then, page?" Tristan asked gruffly, sounding more than a little irritated.

"Yeah. Thanks for indulging me," J.J. said, holding his hand out to help Tristan up. Off to the side, Susumu grinned.

"From where I was standing, that was a lot better," Susumu commented. "You weren't wasting time hesitating; you came up with a good plan on the fly and executed it almost immediately."

"Of course he did. He is more familiar with those forms," Tristan grumbled. "Thus, there is not a pressing need to train with them as there is with Paladin Class."

"I… don't know if that's it," J.J. said slowly. "It's more like… since I knew I had other options available, I didn't feel like I was shackled and forced to fight a certain way."

"You've always been more of a cerebral fighter," Susumu explained. "You approach a fight like it's a chess match, and the more pieces you have at your disposal, the more moves you can make."

"Yes, but when those pieces are removed from the board, you panic and hesitate," Tristan countered as he wrapped his wrist in a bandage, having already demorphed. "You will not always be able to fight as you please."

"You're right," J.J. said absently. "But fighting with limited options is what _you're_ good at. Maybe I should be focusing more on my own strengths. And if knowledge is the source of my power, then doing more research in my downtime might not be a bad idea either…."

"Page!" Tristan said sharply, snapping J.J. out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," J.J. said quickly. "I'm not going to shirk training or anything. I'm just thinking about what I could do to contribute more, since… I'm really _not_ that good of a fighter, and I'm not getting much better," he said, looking away.

"That is why-!" Tristan began, but a look from Susumu made the words die in his mouth. Gritting his teeth, he turned back to J.J. "I suppose… so long as it does not interfere with training, conducting research into the nature of our foe is not a poor course to pursue. However, I must insist that you continue our training sessions as well."

J.J.'s face brightened, and he nodded. "Of course!" he agreed quickly. "Let's see… if it's information about the Seraphs, then the best place to start might be the Marks family mansion. I'll have to see if Gwen would be willing to lend me the key…."

J.J. was aware of Tristan giving him a look of consternation, but neither man said anything. He knew that he would have to be careful not to renege on his promise to Tristan, as the knight did have a point – mastering Paladin Class was indeed important. But in the meantime, it couldn't hurt to also take advantage of Tristan's presence and devote some time to research while he had that luxury… could it?

* * *

The next day, J.J. approached Gwen and asked her to borrow the key to her mansion. While she was initially surprised, when he explained what it was for, she handed over the key, but she warned him that he was unlikely to find anything. She was probably right, and he knew it, but he was still of the opinion that he didn't _know_ that until he checked.

When he arrived at the mansion, he unlocked the door and stepped inside the deserted building cautiously. He was equally wary of both mundane threats like squatters and thieves, and supernatural threats like Shards or even the Fool or Agnar showing up to ransack the place. Thankfully, a quick sweep of the area assured him that he was alone. Relieved that the mansion was still secure, he headed into the library.

J.J.'s boots crunched on the broken glass and scatted debris as he approached the bookshelf. He ran his fingers over the old, dusty books with an almost reverent expression on his face. He'd been drawn to the ancient volumes since he first saw them, and now that he had free access to them, he felt a jolt of excitement run through him. If he'd had the time, he would have immediately grabbed one of the classics – perhaps the Adventures of Robin Hood or the Complete Works of William Shakespeare – and he had to restrain himself and remind himself that he was here to work. A harder expression settled over his face as he began to browse the titles.

Most of the books seemed to be of little value, as he'd expected, but he picked a couple that looked promising – the Catalogue of Alchemical Wonders, the Complete Genealogy of Ancient European Nobility, and the Guide to Legendary Medieval Arms and Armour all caught his attention.

With his books in hand, J.J. walked over to a faded leather chair and spent a few moments brushing bits of glass and wood off the seat before settling into it with a content sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the window was broken, but thankfully the day wasn't too cold, so he was comfortable where he was. He reached over and closed the drapes before picking up the Catalogue of Alchemical Wonders. Once it was open on his lap, he dove into his work.

To both his delight and frustration, the book was genuinely ancient, to the point where the author used Middle English. It was encouraging that he'd managed to get his hands on such an old book, but he was also annoyed that he had to slow down and translate the unfamiliar dialect. Worse, the book was handwritten, and parts of it were smudged and illegible, so he had to do a fair bit of guesswork. Yet, despite the slow pace and difficulties in reading the book, J.J. felt almost giddy.

He was almost unaware of the passage of time, though he did pause in his work from time to time to relieve himself, and when he got hungry, he wolfed down the sandwich he had brought with him. However, he was so absorbed in studying the book that his focus was only interrupted when he became dimly aware of an engine rumbling outside. J.J. blinked in surprise, as most people in town tended to avoid the mansion, so he hadn't expected visitors. He read to the end of the paragraph before mentally marking his spot. He then pushed aside the drapes and peered out the window.

The metallic blue of Tristan's bike caught his eye, and J.J. relaxed. He returned to the chair as he listened to the knight's heavy footsteps on the stone stairs outside before the sound changed to the loud squeaking protests of the wooden floors of the mansion. J.J. looked up from the end of the page as Tristan walked into the library, wearing a thoroughly irritated scowl.

"What are you doing, page?" Tristan asked as he walked into the library, frowning at the stack of books piled up next to the armchair.

"Reading," J.J. stated the obvious, glancing up again with a faint grin to assure that knight that he was kidding. "I take it that Gwen passed along the message that I was going to do some research at her mansion today?"

"She did. It would have been appreciated had you informed me as well," Tristan scowled at him, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh… yeah, I should have," J.J. agreed sheepishly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. I was looking forward to checking out the library here, and I didn't think to let you know what I was doing. That's my fault. I'm glad you were smart enough to check with Gwen, though, so at least it worked out."

Despite his apology, Tristan continued to glower at him. J.J.'s smile faded, and he tilted his head curiously at Tristan, wondering what else was bothering him. The knight remained silent for an uncomfortably long time before quietly asking, "Did you also not think to look at the time?"

"I… did not," J.J. admitted, pulling out his phone and flipping it on. His eyes widened as he saw that it was past two-thirty. Usually, Tristan wanted to meet him for training at one. He buried his face in his hand with a sharp sigh. "I'm really screwing up today, aren't I? I'm really sorry, Tristan. I honestly didn't realize how late it was."

Tristan continued to stare at him before asking quietly, "Are you truly dedicated to improving yourself, page? From your recent actions, I cannot conclude that you are taking your duties as a Kamen Rider seriously."

J.J.'s expression slowly shifted from embarrassment to annoyance as he looked up, his hand resting on the face of the book. "Excuse me?" he asked in a low voice.

"I shall never chastise you over your personal diversions when you do not have prior engagements," Tristan said, folding his arms over his chest. "However, when you neglect your training to pursue frivolous amusements such as these…" He motioned towards the pile of books at J.J.'s feet before giving him a pointed look.

"What, you think I'm doing this for fun?" J.J. asked. He was torn between contemptuous amusement and irritation at Tristan's assumption that he was blowing the knight off to do whatever he wanted.

"What other conclusion am I to draw?" Tristan asked simply. "Reading is a leisure activity, especially for one such as you."

"I'm not just reading because I was bored," J.J. growled. "I'm trying to do research here."

"Research?" Tristan echoed.

"Like I said yesterday, we know almost nothing about the Seraphs," J.J. explained, putting his finger on the book before closing it so he could give Tristan his full attention. "How were they made? What are their goals? How do they intend to achieve those goals?"

"I fail to see how that brings us closer to defeating them," Tristan said.

"Really? If we understand how they were made, assuming they really are constructs, then what if there's some way to simply turn them off without fighting them?" J.J. retorted. "That'd certainly be easier than having to fight the Black Seraph all over again, right?"

"Well…." Tristan hedged.

"Or, what about their goals? Agnar said that the Black Seraph intends to restore Almencia, right? Do you have an idea on how he would do that?"

"I do not, but if we defeat him-" Tristan began. J.J. cut him off by holding his hand up.

"We don't even know where to find the Seraph," J.J. replied. "I've only personally seen him once, and that was when he was trying to tempt Kelsie. Unless you have some way to keep tabs on every person in Marville that's unhappy, finding him is going to be a matter of sheer coincidence until we know where his base is, if he has one. The key to that might be in the past. You haven't seen Agnar since you challenged him to a duel, right?"

"I… have not," Tristan admitted.

"And is he the sort to renege on an oath?" J.J. pressed. "You challenged his honor. Would he run off without answering that challenge?"

"Of course not! He would rather die than stain his honor!" Tristan cried.

"Then that means that he's looking for something, and he considers that task to be more important than fighting you," J.J. concluded. "Aren't you curious about what could draw his attention away from something as important as settling a challenge to his honor?"

"Very well!" Tristan sighed, holding up his hand. "You have convinced me. In that case, what have you discovered?"

"Nothing," J.J. replied simply. Tristan's eyes narrowed.

"Then your search for information has been a waste of time, has it not?" Tristan growled, once again folding his arms.

"I'm not going to find the answers in a couple hours of searching," J.J. pointed out, opening the book again. "I need time to-"

"We do not have the luxury of time, page!" Tristan roared. "We cannot afford to expend energy pursuing fruitless endeavors! Unless you have a clear direction, your time would be better spent doing what we know is effective in combating the Black Seraph – mastering your forms and becoming a more proficient warrior!"

"We've been practicing nonstop for days," J.J. countered. "And I'm not getting any stronger. You know that. All you're doing at this point is wearing me out. Is that going to help us beat the Black Seraph?"

"As your skills are now, it would be miraculous for you to defeat anyone," Tristan shot back viciously. J.J. snarled and pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to stand in front of Tristan with his own arms folded over his chest.

"I dunno, I was doing a pretty good job of it without your help," he snapped.

"You defeated opponents who were not used to their Diemon forms, and who had little combat training," Tristan replied. "Do you not recall your difficulty in fighting those that had been trained for battle?"

"I still won," J.J. pointed out.

"Not every fight," Tristan countered.

J.J. remained in Tristan's face, the two men staring each other down for a few long moments. Finally, J.J. relented, sighing and holding his hands up in surrender as he backed away from the knight, unwilling to keep fighting with him. Clearly, neither was willing to back down from their position, and arguing more wouldn't help anything.

"Alright, fine," J.J. said. "I already admitted that I was in the wrong, so let me make it up to you. We'll go train if you still want to. However, I'd like to do one thing before we do."

"Perhaps. What do you wish to do?" Tristan asked cautiously.

"If you're not going to let me do research, at least let me pass it off to someone who can do it in my place. I'm sure Dr. Newman would be thrilled to have the chance to look through a couple books pulled straight from the Marks mansion. He's been trying to get in for years, after all," J.J. explained, unable to keep a slight smile off his face.

"I believe Lady Marks has already expressed her disinclination towards allowing Dr. Newman to study Almencian artifacts," Tristan said slowly.

"She said she didn't want him poking around their property. She didn't say he couldn't look through a couple of their books," J.J. said. He knew that he was rules-lawyering, and Gwen was likely to be angry with him, but this was the next-best option.

Tristan seemed to come to the same conclusion, and he sighed before inclining his head. "If you are willing to weather Lady Marks' ire, I shall permit this. The school is not far away, correct? We can afford a short detour."

"Your magnanimity knows no bounds," J.J. said with a mock bow. He smirked at Tristan as the knight scowled at him.

"To think that the day would come that I would be forced to endure such impudence," Tristan sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Come. The sun continues to sink, and I do not wish to delay further."

* * *

Classes were just letting out for the day when J.J. and Tristan pulled into the parking lot of the high school and pulled off their helmets at the same time. They then dismounted and waded upstream through the river of teenagers flooding out of the front doors of the school, struggling against the current towards Dr. Newman's classroom.

"Still think our education system is a marvel?" J.J. quipped lightly, calling out to Tristan over the chatter of the students. "Bet your captains didn't have to deal with trying to teach thousands of recruits at a time."

Tristan glanced over at J.J. for a moment before shaking his head. "Hundreds, perhaps, but not thousands," he replied shortly. "Knights, however, only had a few squires at most, so as to provide them with individual attention during training. Some things cannot be effectively taught to large groups."

"That makes sense," J.J. agreed. "It's a shame that teachers nowadays can't give each student personal attention, but it's just impractical."

"Yes. It is truly a luxury to have a personal teacher, and one a pupil would be foolish not to take full advantage of." Tristan said, giving J.J. a sidelong glance. J.J. scowled and closed his mouth as they finally pushed their way past the crowd and began making their way down the hall towards Dr. Newman's classroom.

The teacher was sitting at his desk, glancing over a stack of papers with a red pen in his hand, when he noticed the pair walking in. A smile spread across his face, and he took his glasses off before pushing himself up to greet the two.

"Good afternoon, boys," he said pleasantly, walking over to sit against the edge of his desk with his arms folded. "If you're here, I'm going to assume you have questions about Almencia, correct?"

"Can't we just be here to say hello to you?" J.J. asked with a slight grin.

"Are you?" Dr. Newman replied. J.J. chuckled, and the doctor raised an eyebrow, though the tolerant grin lingered on his face.

"Unfortunately, no," J.J. admitted. "We… I actually did have a couple of questions I was hoping you might be able to answer."

"Maybe I can. Shoot," Dr. Newman said with a shrug. Tristan took a seat at one of the desks while J.J. leaned against another one, resting most of his weight on the palms of his hands.

"I've been mulling over something," J.J. explained. "Have you come across anything that might explain how someone could… 'resurrect Almencia?'"

Dr. Newman stared at J.J. blankly for several long moments before shaking his head. "That… doesn't sound familiar. Where'd you get the idea that something like that was even possible?"

"A former comrade of mine claimed that it is the Black Seraph's ultimate goal," Tristan explained. "We are unsure as to whether or not it has any validity. I consider it suspect at best, as the Black Seraph is known to say anything to appeal to his victims. Thus, I am hesitant to trust any of his claims."

"So, supposing that he's telling the truth, have you come across anything like that in your studies?" J.J. asked. "Say, an ancient prophecy that Almencia will rise again, or some sort of alchemical artifact meant to preserve the island?"

"Why those specifically?" Dr. Newman asked, sounding mildly amused.

"They're the most common methods you find in fantasy," J.J. shrugged. "Since we're living in a world of alchemical monsters and knights from a thousand years ago, I'm not willing to rule anything out at this point."

"I see," Dr. Newman nodded. He pushed himself up and walked over to his bookshelf, running his fingers over the spines of the books. "In that case, the best place to look would be sources outside of Almencia itself. Few works from the island itself survive, but any indication as to whether something like that was possible would survive in legends passed down from the Almencian descendants that immigrated to other countries."

"So have you heard of any legends like that?" J.J. asked.

"There are numerous legends of islands being destroyed, many of them predating the fall of Almencia itself," Dr. Newman said, still looking through the bookshelf. "Atlantis is the most common example, and that predates Almencia by thousands of years – which is why I don't consider Almencia and Atlantis to be one and the same," he added with a bitter smile. "As for restoring the island, however… the only legends I can think of that sound similar are the returns of heroes. Such tales could serve as metaphors for the nations themselves, if the heroes are allegorical representations of their homelands."

"So… like King Arthur returning to Britain?" J.J. suggested.

"Precisely. But even then, the method of _how_ they would return is never explained," Dr. Newman sighed. "Only that they _will_ return one day."

"You have encountered no mention of it in any of your studies, then?" Tristan asked.

"Not off the top of my head, no," Dr. Newman admitted. Tristan shot J.J. a look of mixed annoyance and exasperation. It was an expression that was clearly meant to admonish him for wasting their time on a needless diversion when they should have been training. J.J. responded by shooting him a glare.

"In that case, would you mind devoting a bit of your free time to studying it?" J.J. asked, turning his attention back to Dr. Newman.

"I don't mind, but I've more or less exhausted my research materials," Dr. Newman replied with a shrug. "I'm not sure how much more I can tell you without having access to new information."

"I figured, which is why I brought you a present," J.J. said, grinning as he reached into his jacket. He withdrew the book on alchemical artifacts and held it out to Dr. Newman, who took the book with wide eyes.

"Where did you find this?" he asked, slowly opening the book and glancing over the first few pages.

"The Marks Mansion," J.J. replied. Dr. Newman looked up warily, frowning.

"Miss Marks made it very clear that she doesn't want me going through her family's property," Dr. Newman said slowly. "How'd you manage to change her mind?"

"I didn't, really," J.J. admitted. Dr. Newman frowned at him as he held up his hands. "But this is to help us fight the Black Seraph. I doubt she can raise very many objections."

"I warned him of the same thing," Tristan piped up.

"If she has a problem with it, I'll ensure it falls on my head, not yours," J.J. assured him. "In the meantime, would you mind taking some time to look through that book?"

"You're offering me the chance to study a book from the Marks family library? Especially one that I've never seen before? How can I say no?" Dr. Newman chuckled, closing the book and nodding. "I'll get to it as soon as my work for the day is done."

"Thank you," J.J. said with a smile.

"Very good," Tristan said, pushing himself up from the desk. "Now, if your worries have been addressed, page, I must insist that you turn your attention to training."

"Sure, sure. I did promise," J.J. sighed, though he didn't stand up. "Thanks again, Dr. Newman."

"Of course. If you boys need anything else, let me know," Dr. Newman said. As he spoke, however, the door opened, and the trio of men turned their attention to the figure barging in. She was a chubby girl with dark skin and a skittish expression, who glanced over at J.J. and Tristan for a moment before fixing her gaze on Dr. Newman.

"I-is this a bad time?" she stuttered.

"Come on in, Cammy," Dr. Newman invited her. "These two are just friends of mine. What can I do for you?"

"I… I just wanted to let you know that I got that five-page report that you wanted done," Cammy stammered. "If it's not long enough, I can go back and add more!"

"The… term project?" Dr. Newman asked slowly. "That's not due for another three months, you know."

"I know! But the sooner I get it in, the better, right?" she asked with a nervous laugh. J.J. raised an eyebrow at the girl while Dr. Newman sighed.

"Alright. I'll accept it if you want, but you might want to spend a bit more time going over it," he warned her.

"Oh, no, I've gone over everythin' like four times!" Cammy said, her voice turning slightly shrill. "It's definitely perfect!"

"If… you say so," Dr. Newman said slowly, almost seeming disturbed by the girl's demeanor. "In that case, well done. I'll see about getting it graded, though it might take me a bit."

"Yeah! Yeah, no, I understand!" Cammy said, nodding furiously. "A-and was there anythin' else we needed to know for the test in three weeks? Anythin' I need to study?!"

"How about if I just email you the notes?" Dr. Newman suggested. "In the meantime, maybe you should head home. You've done more than enough for one day. Maybe take some time to yourself, watch some TV?"

"No… no, I haven't done enough," Cammy muttered under her breath. "Not nearly enough. Thanks Doc! I need to go see Mrs. Reynolds next!" she added, waving to him as she scurried out of the classroom.

J.J. stared after the girl before turning back to Dr. Newman. "…That was weird," he said bluntly. "Creepy, even."

"Truly? I found the girl's enthusiasm for learning refreshing," Tristan commented. "If only every pupil was so diligent about their studies," he added, pinning J.J. with a look that the writer chose to ignore.

"Is she one of your best students?" J.J. asked.

"Not at all. In fact, she was something of a troublemaker until recently," Dr. Newman explained, flipping through the work she'd given him. "Relatively poor grades, and never showed much interest in schoolwork."

"When did her behavior change?" J.J. asked.

"Week, week and a half ago?" Dr. Newman said. "At first, I figured her parents had just gotten on her about her grades. That does sometimes spur students on for a couple of days. However, I've never seen someone apply themselves like this. She seems almost frantic, desperate."

J.J. chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Have there been any other students in any of your other classes who acted like this?" he asked.

"Come to think of it, another boy named Craig has been a bit twitchy over the past couple of days too," Dr. Newman admitted. "I hadn't really thought about it until you brought it up."

"Interesting," J.J. said slowly. Tristan gave him a sidelong glance.

"You are thinking…?" the knight asked slowly.

"There might be a Diemon, yeah," J.J. replied, resting his elbows on the desk and propping his head in his hands. "Maybe students were more eager to learn a thousand years ago, but these days, kids acting like that sends up all sorts of red flags."

"Well, perhaps there are other signs to consider, before we conclude that this is a Diemon," Tristan cautioned. "Dr. Newman, have there been any Shards near the school grounds?"

"No," Dr. Newman replied. "We even have drills in place to deal with Shard and Diemon attacks now, but nothing's popped up for the last couple days."

"That does make me hesitate in the assumption that there is a Diemon on the premises," Tristan said.

"The Diemon could be operating off-campus," J.J. countered. "Shards are drawn to Diemon activity, and while I know they've gone after people who've been exposed to a spell, it looks like they're drawn to the strongest source of Diemon powers first."

"What do you suggest, then?" Tristan asked.

"Let's find that girl," J.J. said. "Ask her what's got her so worked up. Dr. Newman, you said she was going to go speak with…?"

"Mrs. Reynolds. She's the English teacher, two doors down on the right," Dr. Newman replied. "If you hurry you can catch her. And I'll start reading the book you brought tonight."

"Thanks, sir," J.J. said, pushing himself up and darting out the door with Tristan on his heels. The two half-jogged down the hall until they spotted Cammy's figure leaning into the doorway of a classroom whose sole occupant was a kind-looking teacher wearing a warm expression.

"Thank you, Cammy," she said with a gentle smile. "I'm glad to see you've been putting in so much effort lately."

"O-of course!" Cammy stammered, unable to meet the teacher's eyes. "I'm just glad my grades are gettin' better!"

"Well, keep at it," the teacher encouraged her.

"Thank you," Cammy mumbled, before hurrying off to the next classroom. Tristan and J.J. traded looks and began shadowing her, following her to the math classroom and peering inside the other entrance, where an older woman with a sharply pointed nose and chin peered at Cammy with a perpetual scowl on her face.

"What's this?" she asked sharply, frowning as she looked over the girl's papers. "Turning something in early?"

"Y-yes Mrs. Faulkner," Cammy murmured, once again looking away. "I-I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Turning in your work early isn't going to mean it's satisfactory, girl," the woman interrupted her, looking up at her as she kept flipping through the pages. "I'm not going to be impressed by someone merely turning in their work for a change. If the quality is poor, it doesn't matter how soon you turn it in. You understand that, right?"

"I…" Cammy swallowed, starting to tremble. As J.J. and Tristan watched, the English teacher, Mrs. Reynolds, seemed to be listening in on the conversation and walked over to her compatriot's classroom, still wearing a beatific smile.

"Oh, ease up on the poor girl," Mrs. Reynolds said, leaning on the doorway. "She's doing her best, you know."

"Don't give me that 'they get points for trying' new-age nonsense, Jenna," Mrs. Faulkner snapped, pointing a finger at her. "That might work for your classes, but in math, there's one correct answer. If they don't get it, then they've failed. No exceptions. It hasn't changed from when I taught you."

"Surely the fact that she's at least turning her work in now is praiseworthy, right?" Mrs. Reynolds insisted.

Mrs. Faulkner scowled at her over the edge of the paper. "If we're talking about raw numbers, yes. A fifty is better than a zero. But a fifty is still a failing grade in my class." She held the stack of papers under Cammy's nose, narrowing her eyes at the girl. "Are you sure these are the answers you want to turn in?"

"I…." Cammy hesitated, before snatching the papers and hurrying away. Mrs. Reynolds let the girl rush past her before frowning at Mrs. Faulkner.

"That old style of teaching doesn't work anymore, Charlotte," Mrs. Reynolds murmured in a quiet voice. "They don't respond to someone snapping at them all day. You have to encourage these kids, or else they're going to give up without even trying."

"And you have to stop coddling them. I have other tests to grade, Jenna, and I don't have time to chat. You have work to do too, so get back to it." Mrs. Faulkner replied shortly. She then looked up and spotted J.J. and Tristan, frowning at them deeply. "And what do you two want?!"

"Sorry! Just looking for someone!" J.J. said quickly, grabbing Tristan by the arm and pulling him away so they could hurry after Cammy. They found the girl shuffling down the hall, muttering to herself as she looked over the stack of formulas in her hands. J.J. came up behind her and said softly, "Excuse me?"

Cammy jumped almost a foot in the air before turning around to look up at J.J. with a wary expression. "Wh-what is it?" she stammered.

"Sorry," J.J. said with a gentle smile, holding his hands up. "I was just on my way to the principal's office, but I noticed you were looking a little stressed. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Why?" Cammy replied quickly. Looking closer, J.J. noticed that there were dark circles under the girl's eyes, from stress or a lack of sleep.

"We're friends of Dr. Newman's, and he was worried you've been under a lot of stress lately. If I might ask, is that true?" J.J. asked gently. Cammy hesitated, and he added, "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it, but you seemed like you could use someone to talk to. Have weird things maybe been happening to you lately? If they have, I might be able to help," he added.

Cammy hesitated, before looking around, almost as if she was checking to see if they were being watched. She then pushed J.J. towards a corner, while Tristan followed. Once they were in a corner, she looked up at him with an expression that made him wonder if she was about to cry.

"I… don't want to talk about this too loud," she whispered to him. "But yeah, weird things have been happenin' around me lately."

"Tell me about them," J.J. replied, leaning down so that they could speak quietly to each other.

"I know Dr. Newman's lookin' at me weird, and I don't blame him. Thing is… I've never been a great student, and I never cared 'bout school," she explained. "But 'bout a week ago, though, the dreams started."

"Dreams?" Tristan asked, frowning.

Cammy looked down at the ground, remaining silent for several long minutes before she began to speak quietly. "Every night, after I fall asleep, I find myself sittin' alone at a desk surrounded by fog, with a black sky above me. This… thing wearin' a hood comes out of the fog and asks me in an old woman's voice, 'Did you do your homework?' Then she reaches out a nail and drags it across my arm, one time for every class I didn't finish my work in."

"That's… creepy," J.J. commented.

"However, there is no need to fear dreams, girl," Tristan added.

"Really?!" Cammy half-shrieked, grabbing the sleeve of her sweatshirt and pulling it down. "Then how d'you explain these?!"

Long, angry, red cuts had been carved into the back of Cammy's arm. J.J. noted that there were six, with four of the cuts slashed through with a fifth longer cut, exactly like a tally mark. Cammy glanced between the two men with wild eyes, and when neither could say anything, she hastily rolled her sleeve back up.

"Yeah, that's what I thought!" Cammy said, on the verge of hyperventilating. "It doesn't matter if I try stayin' awake, either! Somehow, I always fall asleep, and I always find myself back in that room! I think I'm goin' crazy!"

"No, you're not," J.J. said soothingly, smiling serenely at the girl while trying to ignore how hard his own heart was pounding at what she'd shown them. "And thank you for telling us."

"So how're you gonna help me, huh?!" Cammy asked, half-shrieking hysterically.

"Fortunately for you, we know how to get ahold of the Kamen Riders here in the city," J.J. grinned at her. At this, Cammy seemed to shrink, a tentative smile crossing her lips. She seemed to sag with sheer relief upon hearing J.J.'s assertion.

"R-really?" she stammered.

"If anyone can help you with this, it's them, right?" J.J. said with a shrug. "We'll ask them to look into it."

"Y'know… normally, I'd say that sounds stupid, but right now I'm willin' to try anythin'," Cammy exclaimed. "Just… please tell 'em to hurry."

"Sure thing," J.J. assured her. Cammy spun on her heel and hurried off, muttering under her breath as she continued shuffling papers. J.J. sighed and glanced over at Tristan.

"So what do you think?" he asked the knight.

"I must concur, these events do indeed suggest that a Diemon is involved. Though I confess, I have never encountered one that attacked its victims through dreams," he said.

"Maybe it isn't. Maybe it just waits until people are asleep, and then it scratches them. The question, though, is to what end?" J.J. added thoughtfully.

"The end is irrelevant," Tristan said simply. "If there is indeed an active Diemon, we need simply defeat it, and the attacks will stop."

"I mean… you're not wrong, but I'd like to know why, at least," J.J. said.

"Focus on the task at hand, page," Tristan insisted. J.J. bit back a protest, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

"Right, sorry. That'd be wasting time, I suppose. So, what do you suggest we do?" he asked.

"I would recommend we observe the girl, as we know that she suffers these attacks nightly. It stands to reason that it shall happen again tonight."

"What about if there are other victims?" J.J. asked. "Maybe we should go around the school, see who else has been attacked."

"What would be the purpose?" Tristan asked. "We already know an attack is happening to _this_ girl. If we follow her, we shall head off another attack, correct?"

"Yeah, but what if it doesn't attack her tonight? What if it moves onto another victim?" J.J. countered. "We don't know how this Diemon operates, and maybe-"

"You requested my opinion. This is the course of action I believe we should take," Tristan said shortly. "If you wish to discuss the philosophy behind the Diemon's attacks, I shall happily devote as much time as you wish, but the girl shall continue to suffer in the meantime and we will lose our only lead. Focus on what is in front of you, page."

"Fine!" J.J. sighed, a bit more forcefully than he intended. Tristan raised an eyebrow, and J.J. held up a hand. "Sorry. If we're going to shadow Cammy, though, we should figure out where she lives, explain the situation to her parents, and then watch her in shifts. We'll keep an eye on her together tonight, but in the meantime, one of us should watch her while the other gets food, since it's likely to be a long night."

"Now that is a practical suggestion," Tristan praised him.

"Thanks. Now the trick is going to be watching over her without the Diemon spotting us," J.J. muttered, sighing as he ran his hand down his face. "And let's hope that we don't get accused of stalking her. Last thing I need is an arrest and restraining order on my record."

* * *

It was almost midnight, and J.J. was sitting against his bike, shivering and gripping a cup of coffee tightly while he pulled his leather jacket tighter around his body. The weather was getting colder as the seasons changed, and he found himself wishing that the Diemon had chosen midsummer to attack.

To his annoyance, Tristan seemed relatively unfazed. He was sitting beside J.J. astride his bike, calmly munching on a simple ham sandwich on rye bread, one of the few modern foods he seemed to enjoy. It was unsurprising, J.J. thought to himself, as the Middle Ages had both foods, and meat especially was considered a delicacy. Tristan probably felt slightly spoiled having constant access to such high-quality food.

Turning away, J.J. sighed and shivered. Part of his irritation was thanks to how slow a process staking out a house was. He and Tristan had approached Cammy's parents in their armored forms and explained the situation so that they wouldn't be frightened by the two staking out their house. They had then set up near the treeline and powered down, as their civilian forms were less recognizable. If there was a Diemon in the area, it was more likely to disregard them if they weren't wearing their armor. However, over four hours had passed and there was still no sign of the Diemon.

"You'd think a Shard would have shown up by now or something," J.J. commented to break the silence, his breath misting in the chilly air. "At least that'd give us something to follow."

"Eager for battle now, are you?" Tristan commented, finishing the rest of his sandwich before taking a sip from his water bottle. "Where was this enthusiasm earlier in the day?"

"Earlier in the day, it wasn't this cold," J.J. retorted in a pointed, snarky tone. "A fight would give me an excuse to suit up and move around a bit."

Tristan gazed at him coldly for several moments before looking away. "Do not waver in your vigil. The moment you take your eyes from Lady Cammy's residence is the moment when the Diemon is sure to attack."

"Heh. You're not wrong," J.J. said with a wry grin. His smile faltered, however, as Tristan looked away again. J.J. gazed at the back of the knight's head quietly before asking, "Seriously, what's with you? You can't be _that_ upset that I skipped one training session."

"It is not merely that you avoided training, page," Tristan replied.

"Then what is it? Air it out so we can address it and fix it," J.J. suggested.

Tristan looked away, holding up a hand. J.J. snarled, but when Tristan pointed to Cammy's house, J.J. peered a bit closer and saw a shadowy figure approaching one of the windows. Tristan motioned for J.J. to follow him, which J.J. did without hesitation.

The two crept towards the house, keeping low to the ground to avoid attracting the figure's attention. Luckily, it was completely absorbed in whatever it was doing. From where J.J. was standing, it looked like its hand was pressed against a window, and deep purple energy seemed to be swirling around it.

"We should see what it's doing," J.J. suggested in a low voice.

"And allow it to harm Lady Cammy? No," Tristan replied bluntly, holding up his shield. "The sooner we attack, the sooner we can resolve this."

J.J. was about to argue, but before he could, Tristan held his shield to his chest before holding it out in front of him. "Henshin!" the knight shouted, and the figure turned, startled, as Tristan's Driver appeared around his waist and he slotted his buckle.

J.J. winced before exhaling in a long, slow mist, barely able to keep his annoyance in check. While Tristan did have a point about needing to save Cammy before she suffered any more harm, J.J. was of the opinion that they could have at least tried a sneak attack. What was done was done, though, he thought bitterly. He pulled his diary out of his pocket and flipped it open to his stats page, at which point he held it up to his cheek and likewise called out "Henshin!" As his own Driver appeared around his waist, he slipped the book into the belt buckle, and both he and Tristan spun their D-formers at almost the same time.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"**

 **"Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"**

The two Drivers shouted into the night, and die-shaped crystals enveloped J.J. and Tristan in amber and sky blue lights, respectively. As the crystals spun around them, trumpets blared and cymbals clashed while the two men were covered in their armor. When the spinning stopped, J.J. was wearing his light leather armor while Tristan was encased in his heavier sky-blue plate armor, his left hand gripping his heavy shield. Tristan pushed the bull icon on his belt buckle, and a bovine bellow resounded across the quiet lawns. A mace emerged from the bull device on his shield, while J.J. held out his hand and his quill flew out of his diary to settle itself in his palm. He clicked the pen once, and it extended out into its short saber form, which he held out in front of him in a loose fencing stance.

"Step away from that child's house, monster!" Tristan commanded the Diemon, pointing his mace at it. "She shall not suffer your torture any longer! Surrender and you need not face our wrath!"

The figure stared at the two men, before throwing its head back and letting out a cackling laugh that made the hairs on the back of J.J.'s neck stand up. It began growing, its shadowy form expanding until it towered over J.J. and Tristan, standing a good thirty feet tall. J.J. swallowed as the stupid face of an ogre or troll stared down at them, with a club resting on its shoulder.

Tristan charged forward immediately with a yell, leaping into the air and swiping at the Diemon with his mace before the ogre had a chance to strike first. J.J., however, hesitated, his hand resting on his diary. He wasn't sure which form was best suited for this fight, as he'd never had to go up against an opponent this large before. Would Warrior Class's strength be enough to counter something this big? What about Mage Class's magic? Was there enough range for him to safely cast spells? Paladin Class was a good balance, but with its weaker power, could he effectively block a direct strike from the ogre's club?

"Page! Fight!" Tristan shouted. J.J. looked up in time to see the ogre calmly step out of the way of Tristan's wild swing, but the knight pressed the attack, charging at it again. The massive beast was deceptively fast, however, keeping out of the short range of Tristan's mace while chuckling in a deep voice.

Tristan growled and planted his shield before touching the falcon device on his shield. His mace disappeared as a raptor's screech filled the air, and a crossbow emerged from his shield instead. Tristan grabbed it and sighted the beast before loosing a glowing golden arrow. Somehow, however, the ogre again swayed out of the way with unbelievable speed, and the bolt missed.

With the ogre distracted, however, J.J. made up his mind. He put his hand on his blue D-former and gave it a spin, at which point his Driver shouted, **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** A saxophone filled the air as a sapphire enveloped him, and as it spun, his leather armor split open to become his blue jacket. J.J. then gave his die another spin, and as it shouted **"Critical!"** his dagger began to glow.

With the ogre still focused on Tristan, J.J. threw the dagger at the monster's unprotected back. To his shock, however, the ogre shrugged out of the way without even looking at him, and his dagger flew past it harmlessly. J.J.'s jaw dropped as his dagger flew back into his hand, and the ogre turned around to face him.

Before he could recover from his surprise, the ogre suddenly disappeared, and J.J. found himself instead facing a coiled twenty-foot long serpent. It lashed out at him with a hiss, but J.J. just barely managed to leap back, its fangs missing him by millimeters.

Or… did they? He wondered that as he felt a wave of fatigue wash over him, making him stagger slightly. In a panic, he looked down at himself to see if he was sporting a bite mark. The last thing he needed was another trip to the hospital to deal with venom. However, he didn't seem to have suffered any physical damage, and as he lowered his arm, the dizziness slowly passed.

Shaking his head, he let out a low hiss, holding his daggers in a defensive position in front of him. He began circling around the snake, but as it was distracted, Tristan lined up a shot of his own from behind it. A golden bolt slammed into the snake's head, and to J.J.'s surprise and horror, its head detached from its body, landing several feet away and writhing for a few moments before lying still. J.J. looked up at Tristan slowly, swallowing hard to keep himself from throwing up, while Tristan shrugged nonchalantly.

The snake's body, however, continued to remain upright, and as the two watched, two more heads grew out of the stump of its body, each head hissing at one of the opponents. Tristan immediately leaped backwards while J.J. backed away with a horrified expression.

"What the hell are we fighting?" he murmured under his breath, dropping his hand to his belt again. He couldn't think of a single creature that could shapeshift from an ogre to a hydra.

Tristan, meanwhile, pressed the bull icon on his belt again, switching back to his mace, before charging the hydra with his shield raised to protect himself from its attacks. The hydra chose to engage the knight, its two heads hissing and striking at him while Tristan tried to block its attacks. J.J., in the meantime, decided quickly on his next class. The legend of the hydra said that its severed heads had to be cauterized, and he had the perfect form to do so.

 **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his Driver shouted as he spun the black die, and an onyx die enveloped him as chimes played and his blue jacket shifted into a black tunic. When the spinning around him stopped, he gripped his staff and pointed it at the Diemon, but he paused again, as the shape of the battlefield had once again changed in the seconds since his transformation.

Tristan was on one knee, panting and holding his shield up to ward off any follow-up attacks from the hydra, but the snake was no longer there. Instead, a phoenix hovered above the ground, its fiery wings illuminating the night as they blazed brightly. J.J. immediately felt fear grip him as he saw the fire smoldering around it, and the bird turned its attention to him. It let out a screech and opened its mouth, loosing a jet of flame that J.J. couldn't react to in time.

Fire washed around him, and J.J. let out a cry of panic as his pyrophobia once more took hold of him, briefly paralyzing him as he closed his eyes. Strangely, though, the flames weren't hot, and for a moment he wondered if he'd even been hit. As he opened his eyes, however, another wave of fatigue swept over him, this time dropping him to his knees. J.J. panted wearily as he struggled to lift his staff again, but it felt as if it was ten times heavier. All he wanted to do now was rest.

As the flames stopped billowing around him, the phoenix hovered in the air, letting out a triumphant screech. J.J. grit his teeth, awaiting the next attack, as he once more tried to pick up his staff. Before either could move, however, a short yell sounded from behind the phoenix, and Tristan took a flying swipe at the bird with his mace. Unfortunately, the attack was slow, especially for Tristan, and the bird was able to fly out of the way. Tristan stumbled past it and wound up next to J.J., who could see that the knight was panting heavily. Even though he knew Tristan was still having some difficulty with his armor, J.J. suspected that he was also feeling the same weariness as him.

The bird transformed again, morphing into a looming eight-foot tall wyvern that spread its wings and let out a horrific screech. J.J. grit his teeth as he pushed himself up, putting his hand on his diary again. Tristan noticed this and edged out of the way, as J.J. spun his red D-former. **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** his Driver shouted, and war drums played as a ruby die spun around him and he was covered in his thick lamellar armor. He grunted as he hefted his warhammer over his shoulder, slowly pushing himself to his feet. As tired as he was, he felt as if he needed every ounce of strength just to move, which was why right now Warrior Class was the ideal form to pick.

"We will attack one more time, page," Tristan said, slowly straightening up. "Follow my lead, if you would."

J.J. was too tired to argue, so he slipped behind Tristan, allowing the knight to charge forward with his shield raised. The wyvern let out another screech and swung its barbed tail around in a short arc. Tristan caught the attack on his shield, but he suddenly sagged, grunting out. J.J. took advantage of the opening, though, mustering the last reserves of his strength and leaping into the air. The wyvern brought its tail back again, but J.J. was already descending, his hammer raised over his head. His strike was slowed, however, due to his fatigue. The wyvern flinched out of the way to avoid the attack, but its dodge was too quick. It was clearly expecting a faster attack, as after it made a dodging motion, it stepped back into its original place, putting it right in the path of J.J.'s hammer. J.J. let out a yell as the head of his weapon collided with its head, and the wyvern was driven into the ground.

Before he could follow up with another attack, the wyvern suddenly disappeared, replaced with a shrouded figure on the ground. The figure hurriedly pushed itself up before J.J. could recover, clambering away and clutching its shoulder. It let out an unearthly screech of pain as it melted into the night, scampering into the distance before either of the warriors could pursue it.

J.J. swore under his breath and powered down, dropping to one knee as fatigue enveloped him completely. He felt as if he'd run a marathon, and the weariness he felt was made worse once his suit faded. He spent a few moments catching his breath before looking up at Tristan, who was likewise kneeling on the ground, his face pale and coated in sweat.

"That was… a weird one," J.J. commented lightly between pants. "It's too bad we couldn't-"

"You wasted… too much time, page," Tristan interrupted, raising his head to glare at J.J., who froze. "Your indecisiveness… allowed our quarry… to escape."

"My… what?" J.J. managed to snap, snarling at Tristan. "If I recall… I was the one… who finally hit that damn thing."

"I required your help," Tristan admonished him, finally catching his breath. "That foe required coordinated attacks with no hesitation. Yet you wasted time shifting through your forms instead of simply attacking our foe."

"Oh, well, excuse me for not running in blindly, and instead trying to figure out an edge," J.J. shot back. "You wanna talk about wasting something, how about all the energy you wasted with frontal assaults on it while I was trying to figure out the most efficient way to beat it."

"Yet you did not," Tristan replied shortly. "In the time it took you to transform, your Thief Class could have struck that snake eight times. You shifted to Mage Class instead. Why?"

"Have you never read the legend of the hydra?" J.J. asked derisively. "If we'd kept cutting off heads, they'd have kept re-growing. You have to burn the stumps to-"

"That was not a hydra, page!" Tristan cried. "That was some sort of shapeshifting Diemon that kept changing forms when it saw you were attempting to out-guess its next change! And you fell right into its trap, leaving me to fight it virtually alone!"

J.J. winced, realizing that Tristan did have a point, but he was so aggravated at this point that he wasn't willing to back down. "Hey, you're the thousand-year-old knight with more experience than I'll ever have!" he snapped. "You should've thought of something yourself!"

Tristan glared at him coldly as he pushed himself up. "Perhaps I should have. That was my mistake, assuming you were clever. Clearly, your own cleverness worked against you. That is a mistake I shall not make twice."

"And what do you mean by that?" J.J. snapped.

"It means that I must reevaluate you and what you can offer," Tristan said mysteriously. "In any case, there is no point in pursuing our quarry further this evening. Go home and rest, page. You shall require it."

"Wha- wait!" J.J. snapped, but before he could pursue the knight, Tristan walked towards his motorcycle and climbed aboard, driving off without another word and leaving J.J. fuming as he stared daggers at Tristan's disappearing back.


	25. Session 25

**Session 25**

"You gave _what_ to _who_?!" Gwen screamed at J.J., who barely managed to duck under the pillow that she flung at his head. Belatedly, he realized that it was flying into his kitchen, and he turned to watch in horror as the pillow hurtled towards a stack of dishes he'd left beside the sink. Thankfully, the pillow lost momentum and sank at the last moment, impacting harmlessly into the lower cabinets. J.J. let out a sigh of relief and turned back around in time to take a much more solid couch cushion square in the stomach, which briefly knocked the wind out of him.

"Okay, I should have asked you-" J.J. coughed, catching the cushion before it hit the floor.

"You think?!" Gwen shouted, looking around for something else to throw at him. J.J. took the opportunity to scramble to the couch, pull it away from the wall, and dive behind it. Gwen growled at him before stalking into the kitchen and grabbing a dish towel. She ran it under ice cold water before balling it up and cocking her hand back to throw it at him the second he peeked out from behind the couch.

"But it was for a good reason!" J.J. insisted, poking his head out. Gwen almost threw the towel, but stopped herself when he disappeared behind the couch again. "I figured Dr. Newman could help us with researching the Seraphs, and-!"

"It doesn't matter what you intended, you idiot," Gwen hissed. "That book wasn't yours. It was mine, and you had no right giving it to someone without my permission. What if that was a family heirloom that we were keeping for sentimental purposes?"

"Was it?" J.J. asked, feeling the color drain from his face.

"No, which is the only reason I haven't started throwing _hard_ objects at you," Gwen replied shortly. "But I already told you that I didn't want Newman getting his greasy paws on something that belongs to my family, no matter what it is."

J.J. sighed, pushing himself up and holding his hands up in surrender. "You're absolutely right. I'm sorry."

Gwen responded by throwing the towel at him, hitting him squarely in the face. "Sorry doesn't change the fact that you essentially stole from my family. I don't care what your reasons are, J.J. You shouldn't have done that."

J.J. peeled the wet towel from his face, walking over to the sink and wringing it out. "I know. Do you want me to get it back from him, then?"

"It's too late now. What's done is done," Gwen sighed, rubbing her eyes as she leaned against the counter with her arms folded, before once more glaring at her boyfriend. "Did you at least find anything useful?"

"Not yet, no, and I haven't heard back from Dr. Newman," J.J. replied, flapping the towel to dry it slightly before wrapping it around the handle of the oven again. "But I was hoping it might mention something about the Seraphs, since I can't think of an alchemical product more wonderous than those things. At the very least, I figured it'd have information about how alchemical objects in general work. Like if modern machines run on electricity, then maybe there are features in all alchemical constructs that can be exploited."

"If that's your line of thinking, why not give it to Susumu?" Gwen asked. "He's the engineer. Plus, I trust him a hell of a lot more than that… archaeologist."

"Susumu wouldn't be able to cross-reference things the way Dr. Newman can," J.J. replied simply. "When it comes to performing research, Dr. Newman has much more experience. Obscure sources and references would make more sense to someone with an extensive background in Almencian history, especially given how few sources we have to work with in the first place."

"Well… I suppose I can't fault your logic, at least," Gwen grumbled.

"By the way, how come you didn't tell me that you had those books in your library?" J.J. asked suddenly. "They might have been helpful weeks ago when I was first trying to find out about Almencia and everything."

"I forgot we had them," Gwen shrugged.

"Really? Priceless, one-of-a-kind books you can't find anywhere? How could you forget about those?" J.J. asked, shocked.

"Hey, the mansion has been abandoned for a long time. Most people don't even know all the games or songs in their library, even if they look at it every day. You really think I'm gonna remember every book we have stored in a mansion we haven't lived in for years?" Gwen pointed out.

"Fair point," J.J. conceded. He also reminded himself that not everyone shared his passion for books. He'd long ago memorized every book he had in his library.

"What about Tristan, though?" Gwen asked, leaning against the edge of the table with her arms folded. "Why not ask him to help you look for other books you could use?"

J.J.'s expression darkened. "What _about_ Tristan?" he replied coldly, leaning back against a wall with his eyes closed. "He's from the Middle Ages. Few books were written in that period, and even fewer survived, so I doubt he'd even know a single title that'd be useful. As for him helping to research modern sources… he can barely speak English, much less Middle English, and I don't have time to translate for him. Especially since time seems to be so important to him, and he'd apparently rather spend it training than reading," he said bitterly.

Gwen raised an eyebrow, coughing lightly. "I'm… sure there's a story behind this?" she asked hesitantly. "It's rare for you two to fight."

J.J. sighed and explained what'd happened between them, particularly Tristan's sour attitude towards him since he'd failed to show up to train. "I haven't heard a word from him in two days," he added once he finished his summary.

"That's… odd, yeah," Gwen agreed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you can be pretty frustrating sometimes with how thoughtless you are-"

"You're not gonna let the book thing go, are you?" J.J. interjected drily.

"-No. But it's weird for him to react like that. You haven't tried talking to him?"

"Like I said, couldn't get in contact with him," J.J. explained. "The couple of times I tried, Susumu said that he'd gone out for a run. I'm thinking that he's probably trying to do things his own way, like he'd prefer."

"Uh-huh. And what're _you_ going to do about it, then?" Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Me? Nothing," J.J. shrugged. "He wants to do things his way, fine. Means I'll just take care of this Diemon my way. I've spent the last couple days in the library looking up mythological shapeshifters when I've had the time. I figured if I could write the Diemon's name down, I could find it, dispatch it, and wrap up this entire mess while he's busy sulking."

"Given that you're saying you _would_ defeat the Diemon, I'm guessing you haven't figured it out yet, have you?" Gwen asked.

"Unfortunately," J.J. sighed defeatedly. "I've already tried changelings, mimics, sprites, weirds… nothing seems to be the right answer. And none of those fit perfectly anyways, since most of them don't really operate through dreams. I'm stumped right now."

"Have you considered that maybe it's not a shapeshifter?" Gwen suggested.

"Yeah, but I don't know what else it could be in that case. The diary keeps rejecting every possibility I come up with. I wish I could've seen the Diemon's true face. Or that my diary just let me track Diemons without having to perform this 'true name gives you power over them' thing that it seems to run on," he admitted with a sardonic smirk.

His phone buzzed suddenly, and J.J. held up one finger to Gwen, who swept around to peer over his shoulder. "Text from your other girlfriend?" she teased.

"You caught me. I'm dating Susumu behind your back," J.J. replied without batting an eyelash. "We're madly in love, and I'm kicking Tristan out of his place to move in with him. That's why he's so miffed."

"You came up with that way too quickly," Gwen smirked. "Who is it really?"

"Tristan asked to meet with me tomorrow," J.J. sighed. "And I'm not petty enough to let this keep hanging in the air. So, yeah, I'll see what I can do about meeting up with him and burying the hatchet. This has gotten really juvenile anyways. But first… I'm going to go check out the high school, to see if we really did chase off that Diemon."

"Glad you're at least talking sense," Gwen praised him, patting him on the head petulantly. J.J. responded by sticking his tongue out at her. "For being such a good boy, I'll even lighten your punishment for stealing from me."

"You're too good to me. So… how am I going to make this up to you?" J.J. asked, taking a seat on the sofa and gazing up at her as she folded her arms and glared down at him."

"You're buying me dinner," Gwen said shortly.

"Deal," J.J. agreed quickly. "That's not too bad, actually…."

"For two weeks. Regardless of what I want," she added, smirking down at him wickedly as she trapped him, her grin daring him to refuse.

J.J. went pale and swallowed, realizing that his entire paycheck for the month was going to go into her punishment for him. "D-deal," he stammered, looking away. Thankfully, his royalty checks had given him a slight financial cushion, so he wouldn't be struggling to make rent at least.

"Good boy," Gwen praised him smugly. "I'm thinking Italian tonight. Don Mariano's. I love their cannolis."

"But… that place is like thirty dollars a plate!" J.J. protested. A sharp glare from Gwen, however, made him falter, and a moment later he sighed in defeat as he pulled out his phone and began flipping through their menu. "What would you like…?"

* * *

The next afternoon, J.J. returned to the high school and began roaming the halls, looking for Cammy. It was late in the day and classes were just letting out, but J.J. was hoping he could catch her before she left. He didn't know her schedule, but he did know that she had at least three classes in the same part of the school, so he hovered around the area outside Dr. Newman's classroom, keeping an eye out for her in the hopes that they might be able to grab her. When she came out of Mrs. Reynold's classroom, J.J. grinned and hurried over to her, waving at her to get her attention.

Cammy looked up in surprise as she saw J.J. approaching, and she jerked her head upward in greeting. "I was wondering when I'd see you again. Where's that other guy?" she asked.

"He's taking care of something else," J.J. explained quickly, stopping short in front of her. "I just wanted to stop by to see if you'd been having any more nightmares."

"Nah. Whatever you two did, it worked," Cammy told him. "Suppose I should thank you for that."

"You're welcome," J.J. smiled. A moment later, however, his smile faded. "That said, I was wondering if you knew anyone else who's been attacked. I know we didn't beat it completely, and while it might have left you alone, I want to see if it's gone after anyone else."

Cammy frowned, looking away while scratching behind her neck. "I, uh…." She looked away uncomfortably for a few moments before turning back to him. "Look, thanks for your help, but I don't wanna get more involved in this. And if I snitch, I'm scared that the nightmares are gonna come back."

"You don't have to worry," J.J. assured her gently. "You have my word. We'll protect you, so don't be afraid. Just point me in the right direction and let me know if anyone else has been having nightmares."

Cammy sighed, looking away before turning back to the pair. "You gotta swear to keep me safe if I tell you," she warned him.

"I promise," J.J. nodded.

"Alright. Another girl named Lexi, and a dude named Pat told me they were also havin' nightmares," Cammy said in a low whisper.

"That's what I was afraid of," J.J. sighed, running his hand along his face. "Just one more question, then, if you don't mind. Are they also in any of your classes? Particularly any classes that they're having problems in?"

Cammy hesitated, thinking about it, before saying slowly, "They both take math with me in Mrs. Faulkner's class. Why?"

"If there's a Diemon that's going after you for not doing your work, it stands to reason that it'd be a teacher who's annoyed that you're not doing well in their class," J.J. replied. Mrs. Faulkner… if he recalled correctly, she was the rather sour math teacher who had barked at J.J. and Tristan when they'd peeked into her classroom. From her attitude alone, he wouldn't be surprised if she was indeed harboring ill will towards her students.

"Oh… yeah, I guess that makes sense," Cammy said, before glancing around warily. "Still… I gotta get outta here, before someone sees us together."

"Sure," J.J. said, smiling reassuringly. "Don't panic. We'll keep an eye on you to make sure no one comes after you."

"Uh-huh," Cammy replied briefly, before briskly walking away from him. J.J. smiled tightly and walked the other way towards Mrs. Faulkner's classroom.

He entered her empty classroom quietly with his head slightly bowed, approaching where she sat with a red pen in her hand, slashing it like a knife across sheets of paper while muttering under her breath. She slowly looked up as J.J. approached and scowled at him sourly.

"What is it?" she asked sharply, before squinting at them. "Wait… you were here the other day, weren't you?"

"Yes. Sorry for the intrusion, ma'am," J.J. said, standing in front of her with his hands behind his back. Something about the woman's piercing gaze made him want to tuck in his shirt. "I was hoping I could have a quick word with you."

Mrs. Faulkner scowled down at the stack of papers in front of her before looking up and crossing her arms in front of her on her desk. "Be quick about it. I have a lot of work to do," she said shortly.

"I've just been worried about a couple of your students is all. One of them, Cammy, has been under a great deal of stress lately," J.J. explained, taking a seat at one of the desks in front of her. He was being very careful to toe the line with her and avoid saying anything that might set her off. If she was a Diemon, he didn't want to anger her, especially without Tristan for backup. He was hoping to gauge her reactions to even the lightest probing, to see if she was indeed suffering from D-former corruption.

"And? Is that an accusation?" Mrs. Faulkner asked shortly, raising an eyebrow and wearing a nonplussed expression.

"Not at all!" J.J. said quickly. "But you're one of her teachers, and I was wondering if it was something you'd noticed as well. I was worried about her, and I wanted to know if you had any ideas about how to address it."

"What's your relationship to Cammy?" Mrs. Faulkner asked suspiciously.

"She's a family friend. She came to me asking me for help, and it sounds a lot like she's been getting bullied," J.J. lied quickly.

"I see," Mrs. Faulkner said flatly, sounding unconvinced. "Yes, she's seemed a bit tired lately, and a bit down. Despite that, her grades have been improving, so I just chalked it up to her studying harder and staying up later."

"Do you think that's a good thing?" J.J. asked cautiously.

Mrs. Faulkner glanced back up at him with a cold look. "For now, yes. I'm glad she's taking her work seriously for a change. If I felt she was overdoing it, I'd tell her so. However, she has a great deal of work to make up, and if she's trying to do it all at once, then I'd expect her to be tired. That said, it's important to make sure that she's doing the work properly before turning it in. Like I told her, it doesn't matter how much work she gives me if it's wrong."

J.J. was slightly taken aback by the woman's callous attitude, and he said slowly, "Surely the effort is commendable…."

Mrs. Faulkner stared at J.J. levelly, and he flinched under her gaze. "I'm teaching math here, son. Math is a subject where for every problem I assign, there is a correct answer, and I expect them to find it. If the answer is wrong, then it's wrong. Yes, they get a bit more credit for trying than if they don't do the work at all, but in the end, it doesn't matter if the answer is incorrect. In a way, they could think of that as a life lesson."

"In what regard?" J.J. asked curiously.

"In most things in life, merely trying will only get you so far," Mrs. Faulkner said, tapping her pen against one of the papers. "Suppose that you were flying a plane and you _almost_ landed correctly. In that scenario, even though you did almost everything right, you still crashed the plane, and people might have been killed because of it. Would you be satisfied that you almost did your job properly?"

"Ah… I see your point," J.J. admitted. Mrs. Faulkner nodded curtly.

"That's why it's important that Cammy does the work properly instead of just trying to hand me a paper for minimum credit," Mrs. Faulkner continued. "If that means that she has to go over the work six more times before she's satisfied with it, so be it. So long as she arrives at the correct answer eventually."

J.J. gazed at the woman quietly before smiling slowly. "You've got a rather old-school mentality towards teaching. That's not an attitude that I've seen very often these days."

Mrs. Faulkner scoffed softly, her eyes glinting like chips of steel. "Most teachers these days unfortunately have their hands tied because of how the school system treats us," she explained, folding her hands in front of her. "Parents often come into the school whining about how their kids aren't being treated nicely by their teachers simply because they're failing. As a result, many modern teachers wind up having to walk a tightrope, trying to keep the parents happy while dealing with increasingly rebellious kids who try to take advantage of the teachers' inability to do anything to them. It's part of the reason why the educational system is failing."

"But you don't fear that?" J.J. asked, tilting his head.

"I'm old, son," Mrs. Faulkner smirked. "I've been a teacher at this school for over thirty years, and I'm as irreplaceable as the walls themselves. I don't give a damn what some stuck-up parent thinks of how I talk to their spoiled brat, because if they fire me at this point, I'd just consider it an early retirement. You wouldn't believe how many parents that ticks off," she added, her grin turning malicious.

Despite himself, J.J. found himself grinning at her in return. "I… actually respect that," he chuckled.

"But there's another key that most teachers forget, and it's not just among the younger generation. I've seen it in a lot of the older ones too," Mrs. Faulkner continued. "They tend to forget that a great teacher isn't measured by how popular they are or by how hard the work is. The truly great teachers are those that are able to most effectively get their students to learn what the teachers want them to."

"Huh. That… makes sense," J.J. agreed slowly. "But… it's not that simple, is it?"

Mrs. Faulkner shook her head. "Each teacher has to find their own method to convey what they want to teach. Some can do it through sheer charisma, by being popular enough that the students want to listen to them because they adore the teacher. Others have a gift for breaking down their material in ways that make it easy for the students to understand. And some of us are so stubborn that we force the kids to keep working until they the right answer while we ignore their whining," she said with a slight grin. "But there's another element to it as well."

"Which is?" J.J. asked slowly.

"It depends on the students themselves. Just like there are different ways to teach, there are different ways to learn," Mrs. Faulkner explained. "When it comes to education, a student sometimes has to recognize when one method of learning isn't working for them. If they really want to master the material, it's up to them to bring it up to their teacher, and together they can devise a new method that'll make the learning process easier. When they do that, oftentimes I've found that it makes learning fun for both parties." She suddenly smiled the softest smile J.J. had yet seen from her. "Teachers live for students that want to learn from them, since it reminds us why we wanted to teach in the first place."

J.J. felt he'd heard enough. Mrs. Faulkner was being far too rational to be a Diemon, and if she was suffering from D-former corruption, she would have made her dissatisfaction known by this point. He glanced down at his phone, checking the clock to see if he still had enough time to do another sweep of the school for other culprits, but he realized that it was fast approaching time for his meeting with Tristan, and he wasn't going to make the knight angrier by arriving late again. It was a shame, too, he mused. He'd been finding himself getting drawn into his conversation with Mrs. Faulkner.

"I hate to do this, but I'm late for a meeting," J.J. said, standing up to take his leave. "But thank you for talking with me for a bit. You might've helped me with some of my own issues."

"Glad to do it," Mrs. Faulkner shrugged. "You… weren't one of my kids, were you? What's your name?"

"J.J. Wells. And no, I never went to school here. I attended a private school, and I only moved to the area about a year or so ago," J.J. admitted with a sheepish grin.

"I thought so. I'd remember someone like you. You're exactly the type of student that I'd want to have. You seem to have a gift for learning yourself," Mrs. Faulkner commented. "Speaking of, you're out of college, right? What was your field?"

"English," J.J. said with a slight grin. Mrs. Faulkner leaned her head back and covered her eyes dramatically.

"No wonder you were arguing with me about just getting credit for turning in work. You can get away with that in English if you've got a silver tongue," she sighed, though she was grinning at him faintly. "Just keep in mind-"

"There are situations in life where trying isn't good enough if the answer is wrong, right?" J.J. finished for her. Her grin broadened.

"See? You do learn quickly," she chuckled. "It was nice talking to you son. Now get out of here. I still have work to do."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, J.J. pulled up to the parking lot of the library and parked his bike before removing his helmet and dismounting. He quickly jogged up the stairs, emerging into the main studying space of the old cathedral. Even though it was midafternoon, the library was relatively quiet, with one corner occupied by a study group and only a few other people spread out intermittently between the tables. He was able to immediately spot Tristan hunched over one of the desks with a few heavy volumes spread out in front of him. He noticed Rachel, another one of the pages, looking over his shoulder and helping him to read some of the harder words. When Tristan looked up, he spotted J.J. and nodded, motioning J.J. over as Rachel wandered off to go retrieve more books.

"I am glad to see that you arrived early, page," Tristan commented, folding his arms over one of the books he was reading.

"Well, I didn't need you chewing me out for showing up late twice in a row," J.J. pointed out, before motioning at the books Tristan was reading. "What's all this?"

"Research," Tristan replied, in a tone that mirrored the one J.J. had used the other day. J.J. couldn't help but smile to himself.

"I can see that. What were you looking up, though?" J.J. asked easily.

"I requested Lady Rachel's help in assisting me in my search for information about alchemical history and techniques. Upon reflection, I concluded that your idea to investigate the origins of the Seraphs was a sound one, as it could indeed potentially secure a swift, bloodless victory if we discover relevant information," Tristan said.

"Oh yeah?" J.J. asked lightly, surprised that Tristan was conceding that point. "Did you find anything, by any chance?"

"I did not," Tristan replied. "I must confess that I am surprised by how little information on alchemy is available."

"Really? How come?" J.J. asked.

"You have had a thousand years to gather knowledge about a vast array of subjects, far more than we could have ever dreamed in my time," Tristan explained. "Furthermore, the information is available at your fingertips, instantaneously. That is truly magic, though your people seem to take it for granted. Yet for all your accumulated knowledge, there is little information pertaining to the study of alchemy. I find that difficult to understand."

"You can thank the Renaissance and the Enlightenment for that one," J.J. explained. "Alchemy is considered a curiosity rather than an acknowledged field of academic study. By the end of Renaissance, it was relegated to a fringe science at best, practiced by corrupt sorcerers and dark wizards. Science eventually became acceptable, but alchemy never did. Therefore, few studied it seriously."

"I see. I suppose, though, that I should not be surprised that information has been difficult for me to come by, regardless," Tristan said ruefully. "I am a warrior, not a scholar."

"I disagree. I think you could be if you put your mind to it," J.J. said encouragingly. "You're certainly smart enough."

"You flatter me," Tristan said modestly.

"I mean it," J.J. insisted, taking a seat across from him. "You've managed to adapt to the modern age very quickly. I can't imagine how alien this world must have been when you first woke up, but now you blend in pretty well. There's an entire genre of fiction about time-travelers from the past struggling to adjust to the future, but you've gotten used to it without too many problems. You wouldn't be able to if you weren't very intelligent, and if you didn't have the flexibility of mind to adapt and accept the modern age. Or, at the very least, if you didn't have an indomitable will. Either way, you've got the brain for scholarship, if you applied yourself."

"You're kind, page," Tristan chuckled. "But I would not seek to become a scholar even if the opportunity was presented."

"How come?" J.J. asked, tilting his head. "You _do_ have that opportunity in this era."

"It is simply the way I view the world," Tristan replied, sitting back in his chair slightly. "In my time, once you selected a path, it was expected that you would follow it your entire life. A warrior was meant to dedicate himself to becoming a warrior. A scholar, to a scholar. One could not deviate from their path, because to do so would be to mar their potential perfection in their chosen field."

J.J. fell silent at Tristan's explanation. It suddenly became clear why Tristan was so adamant about training with him – if it was how he had been trained to think, that would explain why he insisted that constant practice in a certain way was the only proper way J.J. was going to become a warrior. J.J. had said, too, that he intended to devote his time to becoming a better fighter, so Tristan had been trying to accommodate him the best way he knew how. And yet J.J. had resisted, and even tried to find ways around Tristan's training. No wonder he'd been so annoyed.

"Well… are you saying there's no potential for crossover between professions?" J.J. asked slowly, trying not to make it sound like he was challenging the knight. Tristan gazed at him, before tilting his head with a curious look.

"Elaborate," Tristan encouraged him.

"I mean… you study warfare, right? And you teach it, don't you?" J.J. explained. "What does that make you, if not a scholar of combat?"

Tristan blinked slowly, scratching under his chin thoughtfully. "That is a fair point, though I confess that I never thought of my profession that way," he replied. "However, the methods of education differ. I could not explain combat the way a scholar explains a book."

"Couldn't you?" J.J. replied. He was remembering what Mrs. Faulkner had said about the student having to find ways to help the teacher, if possible. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his diary, laying it out on the table in front of Tristan. "How about if we give it a shot?"

"What are you suggesting?" Tristan asked.

"Well… you know how I've been approaching my fights, right?" J.J. said, pointing to the stat page with the ice golem on it. "I've been looking at the stats and abilities of my opponents and trying to counter them with the best form I have available. I'm sure you could do the same thing, couldn't you? In fact, since you have more experience than I do, you're almost certainly able to approach them from angles I'd never dream of. Like, what about this golem here? I thought at first that just using fire would be enough to bring it down, but that wasn't the case. I ended up having to use a new Critical to weaken it instead. What about you? How would you have fought it, using your own armor?"

Tristan fell silent, gazing at the golem. J.J. watched Tristan's eyes flickering rapidly, and he could almost see the knight shadow-fighting the golem in his head. Finally, he looked up at J.J. with a shake of his head.

"I imagine that I would have come to much the same conclusion as you did, although I would have had an easier time of it," Tristan said. "My mace is well-suited for the sort of rapid bashing attacks that you used to defeat it. Furthermore, my armor is provides a sturdy defense against most magic, including his ice attacks, and with my weight, I would have been relatively unhindered by his tendency to freeze the ground, as I would have been able to continue to power through his attacks. Thus, this would have been an easy victory for me."

"I gotta agree with that," J.J. nodded, flipping through his pages. He finally settled on Abby's vampire page before looking up. "What about this one?"

"Ah, Lady Brooks, is it?" Tristan chuckled. "As I recall, fire was effective against her in this case. I would have had a more difficult time against her, but given the environment… my strategy would have been the opposite of yours."

"What, you mean torching the place?" J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Fire is not an option for me, so no. But I am referring to your command of the terrain. As I recall, you backed Lady Brooks into a corner before unleashing a wave of flames upon her. You negated her speed by limiting her options for movement," Tristan said. "By contrast, I would have limited the angles from which she could strike me. I would have backed myself into a corner and defended against her assault until she tired herself out or retreated."

"That makes sense. Though that wouldn't really be an option for me," J.J. said, looking slightly downcast. "I don't really have a defensive form. I don't have any choice but to keep playing offense until I find an opening that I can exploit."

"You think too little of yourself, page," Tristan replied gently. "You have become a proficient warrior in your own right. In many cases, your problems stem merely from a lack experience, which is why I have been attempting to encourage you to train whenever possible."

"Alright, then let me pose one more scenario for you," J.J. said, leaning forward slightly. "What if our powers were reversed? What if I had your abilities, and you had mine? How would you break through your own defenses just using Paladin Class?"

Tristan gazed at J.J. levelly for a few moments before saying softly, "Has that been occupying your thoughts, page? I did not mean for the training sessions to appear as though they were a competition."

"No, I'm curious now," J.J. insisted. "I haven't been able to figure out the answer, so I'd like to know how you'd do it. How would you beat your own armor if you had Paladin Class?"

"To be perfectly honest?" Tristan replied, smiling faintly. "I would simply keep battering at my defenses until I dropped my guard."

J.J. stared at Tristan blankly, utterly uncomprehending Tristan's answer. "What… that's it?" he asked drily.

"Page, you have been treating battles as though they are puzzles to be solved," Tristan explained. "In every fight, you have searched for a single answer that will guide you to victory. Oftentimes, it is by switching your class to attain some overwhelming advantage over your opponent. In general, that is not a poor strategy, and it suits your intellectual nature. However, there are times when a fight does not have a solution based upon statistics. Sometimes, fights devolve into simple brawls, devoid of strategy or thought. In such situations, they become tests not of intellect, but of will. That, page, is what I have been trying to impart upon you."

J.J. swallowed, looking down at the table. "So… when we were sparring the other day and I asked you if I could switch forms…."

"That is when you failed the situation that I was placing before you," Tristan nodded. "Now, on the one hand, you did indeed manage to land a strike upon me. However, you also essentially gave up when you should have continued to press the attack in Paladin Class. Had you continued your assault, I am certain that Paladin Class's raw power would have eventually secured your victory."

"But… in a battle, I won't have time to-" J.J. began.

"What is my biggest weakness right now?" Tristan asked.

J.J. hesitated before answering slowly, "…Stamina."

"Yes. Therefore, had you pressed the attack without allowing me time to recover, you would have steadily worn me down. My defenses, while stalwart, are not impenetrable, and I certainly do not have limitless energy," Tristan explained. "You are a strong enough warrior now that with sheer might and willpower, you have the potential to defeat me in a fair battle, given the right circumstances."

J.J. slowly closed his mouth, before tilting his head. "If that's the case, why didn't you just tell me to keep attacking?"

"I did," Tristan pointed out.

"No, I mean… why didn't you explain it to me in those terms, the way you did just now?" J.J asked. "If you'd broken it down and explained the logic behind it, I would have accepted your training without complaint. When you put it that way, it makes sense."

"I see. Partially? Because I was hoping that you would discover the answer yourself. You are clever enough that I was hoping you would come to that conclusion on your own." Tristan explained.

J.J. was immediately reminded of Mrs. Faulkner again. "Alright. But you said only partially?" J.J. pointed out.

"Indeed. Furthermore, it is simply the way that I learned to fight myself," Tristan replied. "I was not given a full explanation as to why a certain technique was being practiced. We were simply expected to perform it to the best of our abilities, without questioning our leaders. Those that did ask questions were punished, so we quickly learned to simply do as we were instructed. In battle, we needed to be a single, cohesive unit. We did not have the luxury of thinking our moves through, because to stop and question orders was tantamount to giving our enemies an opening to exploit."

"Okay… that makes sense," J.J. agreed. "But I'm not being trained to fight as part of a unit. You're training me as an individual fighter."

"Indeed, and that is my failing as a teacher," Tristan admitted, folding his hands in front of him. "I had not realized that I needed to approach your training another way. For that, you have my apologies, and I shall endeavor to offer explanations in the future, as doing so seems to be more effective than merely giving you orders." A faint smile crossed his lips. "I must remember that you are a scholar more than a warrior, and that I must treat you as such."

"I appreciate that," J.J. replied, smiling faintly in return. "And in exchange, I'll try not to be so… surly when you try to teach me something. I'll try to figure out why you're teaching me something, since you've never taught me a single thing without a reason behind it."

"That will be satisfactory, then, page," Tristan nodded. "So, with that settled… how are we to pursue our current Diemon? The problem has not resolved itself, after all, and our quarry is still active."

"See, that's something I've been having trouble with," J.J. sighed. "I've been blanking on what sort of Diemon it is. I've gone through a full list of potential monsters, but none of them are correct."

"What have you tried?" Tristan asked. J.J. went down the list of a dozen or so monsters that he'd put down, while Tristan listened quietly. Finally, the knight looked up at the ceiling, as if contemplating something.

"If I may make a suggestion?" Tristan asked. "The way this Diemon attacks its victims reminds me strongly of our legends about witches."

J.J. looked down at the diary, tapping the end of his quill pen against a blank page. "A witch isn't a mythological creature," he said slowly. "At least, in modern mythology, they're just ordinary people who have magical powers."

"Perhaps, but the powers this Diemon displayed reminded me strongly of a witch," Tristan explained. "In my time, witches were shapeshifters that worked spells at night. There were also legends of crones who would sneak into a home and straddle a person's chest. While pinning them down, they would give their victim night terrors, while making it impossible for them to breathe. Does that not sound like our current foe?"

"It does," J.J. admitted slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek. "A crone… wait!" He pushed himself up and strode over to a book of fairy tales and folklore, which he yanked off a shelf and began flipping through the pages while Tristan looked on curiously. "Straddling someone's chest… sleep paralysis? There's a folksy term for it… being hag-ridden!" he exclaimed, looking up and beaming at Tristan as he snapped the book shut authoritatively.

"Have you found the answer?" Tristan asked as J.J. resumed his seat in front of the knight.

"Maybe. Let's try this," J.J. said, opening his diary and flipping over to a blank sheet of paper. At the top of the page, he wrote three letters: "Hag." From there, his pen began to scribble rapidly across the sheet, filling in the stats of the monster they'd fought, while he grinned up at Tristan triumphantly.

"Good call on that one," he praised Tristan. "I never would have guessed a hag, since it's such an old legend." he asked with a cheeky grin.

"Indeed?" Tristan said, seeming a bit surprised that his suggestion was the correct answer. "So, shall we wait until nightfall?"

"We could," J.J. said, tapping his pen against the pages of the book. "But there's also-"

"E-excuse me," a hesitant voice interrupted them. J.J. and Tristan turned around to see a pale young man hunched in front of them. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and he was nervously licking his lips, glancing furtively back and forth. "I-I'm sorry to interrupt, but… we're over here trying to study, and you two are kinda being distracting."

"Our sincere apologies, lad," Tristan said easily, holding up his hand. J.J., however, frowned, trying to peer into the boy's face. The kid noticed that J.J. was tilting his head and tried to shy away.

"Wh-what do you want?" he asked hesitantly.

"Are you alright?" J.J. asked bluntly. "You're looking a little sleep-deprived."

"I'm fine!" the boy cried shrilly, before lowering his voice. "I'm fine. But we really need to get our work done."

J.J. continued to stare at the boy before asking bluntly, "You've been having nightmares lately, haven't you?"

The boy's eyes widened, and he asked quickly, "H-how did you-?"

"Can I see your arm?" J.J. asked. Across from him, Tristan stood up and positioned himself between the boy and the door so that he couldn't flee. Apparently, Tristan had also noticed the way the boy was glancing towards the doors of the cathedral.

"Why?" the boy asked sharply, backing away from the pair. "What are you going to do to me?"

"We want to help you," J.J. said soothingly. "You've been getting haunted at night, haven't you?"

The boy's eyes widened again, and he looked away. At that moment, however, a sweet voice asked, "Can I help you two gentlemen? Or, rather, may I ask you to please stop harassing my student?"

J.J. and Tristan swung around to see a young woman with honey-blond hair standing behind them with her hands folded in front of her and a disconcertingly serene smile on her lips. Somehow, the expression on her face made J.J. feel as though she was about to pull a knife on them if they said the wrong thing.

"You're… Mrs. Reynolds, right?" J.J. asked. The woman's smile somehow turned upwards just a little bit more, making it seem even more threatening.

"My, how do you know that? Have we met before?" she chirruped.

"I remember seeing you the other day. One of your students, Cammy, was turning in a paper to you, if I recall."

"Ah, yes, Cammy!" she replied with a chuckle. "I'm very proud of her. She's been working so very hard lately."

"Yeah… and it doesn't concern you that she's been stumbling around like she's cramming before the last week of finals in college?" J.J. replied.

"Oh, she had a lot of work to make up," Mrs. Reynolds replied, waving off J.J.'s concerns. "And it's important that she gets it in, which she is. The effort is what matters."

"Really? Your colleague, Mrs. Faulkner, seems to disagree," J.J. pointed out. Mrs. Reynolds' smile turned, somehow, even more sinister at that comment.

"Mrs. Faulkner… Rita and I have different approaches to education," Mrs. Reynolds replied, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "I'm willing to overlook a little past laziness so long as the students put in an earnest effort to make up their work."

J.J. sensed that continuing to challenge the woman would be dangerous, so he quickly changed the subject. "So… did you set up that little study group?" J.J. asked, nodding to the corner.

"Indeed! I'm so happy that so many of my students are trying so hard to do better in school!" she replied cheerfully. "The least I can do as a teacher is provide them with all the materials they need to succeed."

"Your dedication to your craft is admirable," Tristan said. Mrs. Reynolds turned her smile on him, though J.J. thought he had caught a very subtle undertone of sarcasm in the knight's usually polite tone.

"You're very kind to say so," Mrs. Reynolds replied. "Truth be told, it concerns me that so few teachers are willing to go above and beyond for their students these days. Our job doesn't end when the bell rings. At least, that's my philosophy. It's our duty as teachers to make sure that the kids are being diligent about studying outside of the classroom as well."

"Really?" J.J. asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Don't you have work of your own to do? Grading papers, preparing lesson plans for the next day, that sort of thing?"

"Oh, what sort of teacher would I be if I didn't adhere to my own philosophy?" Mrs. Reynolds replied, waving him off. "I prepare my lesson plans and grade my students' work well in advance of the next day. That gives me plenty of free time to check up on the kids. It's the least that I can do as a good teacher."

"When… do you sleep?" J.J. asked warily.

For some reason, that seemed to trigger something in Mrs. Reynolds, and he could see her jaw twitching slightly. If alarm bells were already going off in J.J.'s head from her demeanor, they were now accompanied by flashing sirens. "I get enough sleep to get by," she replied curtly. "In this day and age, does anyone even really get enough sleep?"

"Fair point," J.J. said quickly, trying to defuse the situation. "But that said, how long have you had this idea for a study group? It _is_ a good one, and one that I wish more teachers would employ," he added, trying to play to her ego slightly.

"Oh, I only set it up a little while ago," she replied with a shrug. "I wish I'd been able to implement it sooner, but the students didn't seem to have any interest. A couple weeks ago, though, they came to me asking if there was anything I could do to help them with their papers, and this is what I suggested. They apparently asked a few of the other teachers first, but my colleagues were… less than enthusiastic about spending more time than they had to helping these poor kids."

"And these kids in your group… are they your best ones?" J.J. asked warily.

"No, and that's the most wonderful part!" Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed. "Until recently, they were my troublemakers! But they've discovered a new passion for learning that really warms my heart!"

"Really? They don't look very happy about it," J.J. commented, glancing over at the group of students hunched over their desks, pretending not to listen to the conversation between J.J. and their teacher.

"Well, they don't have to love school," Mrs. Reynolds admitted. "But as long as they have the desire to learn, I'm happy to teach them."

"And what about the ones that don't have that desire?" J.J. retorted.

Mrs. Reynolds' smile turned sinister once again. "They'll also learn," she said icily.

J.J. raised an eyebrow, then asked simply, "Just one more question, if you don't mind? You wouldn't happen to have spoken to a winged man in black lately, would you?"

Tristan glanced over at J.J. warily as Mrs. Reynolds' eyes widened and her smile dropped entirely. In a low voice, she whispered, "How did you…?"

"Why don't we discuss this outside?" J.J. suggested, glancing over at her students. "They don't need any distractions, since they're trying so hard to work diligently."

Mrs. Reynolds followed his gaze, before inclining her head reluctantly. J.J. winked at Tristan as he led the way out of the library. He was glad she was willing to come with them, as he cared about the library, and he didn't want to see it ruined by a full-scale battle. In the same vein, he figured that if Mrs. Reynolds' D-former corruption was based around her students' success, twisted as it was, she wouldn't want to do anything that might hinder them. It was a gamble, but it seemed to have worked.

The trio walked down the main steps of the cathedral, and J.J. led them away from the major roads towards a nearby copse of trees off the road where few people could see them. When he turned around, he was greeted by Mrs. Reynolds' livid expression.

"How?" she hissed to him. "How did you know about the Seraph?"

"We've had experience with him, and since we know how he works, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out," J.J. pointed out, folding his arms. "You sounded utterly deranged in there. Not to mention, you said you started up this study group only a couple of weeks ago, which is probably when the kids started having nightmares. Let me guess, he gave you a gemstone that gave you the power to influence dreams?"

The woman snarled at him, before sighing and shrugging. "I suppose there's no point in hiding it. Yes, he gave me a jewel. So?"

"Why?" J.J. asked, tilting his head. "Would you mind explaining that much?"

"Why should I?" Jenny snarled.

"You're a teacher," J.J. retorted with a slight smile. "I thought you'd relish the chance to teach someone who's willing to learn."

Mrs. Reynolds' jaw began to twitch, and she looked away as her voice grew tight. "I thought I would love being a teacher," she said softly. "Helping kids achieve their dreams, teaching them everything they'd need to succeed? I really wanted them to love me and look up to me as an inspiration. But when I got started… not one of them wanted to listen. Any time I tried to give a lesson, they ignored me, played on their phones, made stupid jokes to one another… and worst of all, I had to watch them fail. But even when they were failing, they didn't care. Then I had parents tell me it was my fault that their brats weren't doing well in class, when I went out of my way to encourage them to stay behind and study more so that they wouldn't have these problems.

"I thought I was being too soft on them, so I tried being stricter. My favorite teacher when I was in school was Mrs. Faulkner, and I remembered that she was tough, but that everyone respected her. So, I tried to be like her. I confiscated phones, raised my voice… but nothing worked. If anything, the kids just harassed me even more," Mrs. Reynolds sighed.

"Yeah… that sounds like how teenagers act towards everyone," J.J. said.

"But worst of all were the ones that thought they knew better," Mrs. Reynolds said, looking away. "The ones that were too smart for their own good. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to try and teach someone who thinks they know more than you do, so they refuse to listen to you?"

"Indeed," Tristan commented sympathetically, shooting J.J. a wry grin. J.J. smiled back sheepishly, inclining his head.

"I couldn't take it anymore," Mrs. Reynolds said in a long-suffering voice. "I wanted to quit. But right when I was about to, an angel in black approached me and told me that he had a way to make the little brats listen to me. Then he gave me a jewel that gave me the power to… reach them," she said with a manic grin, closing her hand around something in her pocket.

"And you've been invading their dreams ever since?" J.J. asked.

"I just prodded them to work harder outside the classroom," Mrs. Reynolds protested. "The best students are the ones that retain a passion for learning even after they leave my classroom. I just wanted them to apply themselves even when they didn't have to, to get in the habit of working hard rather than treating learning as something they had to sit through before going home. Isn't that a valuable lesson to teach them?"

"Admittedly, even many adults never learn that," J.J. agreed. "However, psychological torture and mutilation isn't the way to go about teaching."

"I had no other choice! And once they started consistently turning in their work, I was going to leave them alone," Mrs. Reynolds protested.

"And if they ever stopped, you were going to go after them again," J.J. countered.

"Well, yes, because in that case they clearly didn't learn their lesson," Mrs. Reynolds replied unapologetically.

"What if they perished from exhaustion?" Tristan countered. "I have seen it happen before."

"None of them have," Mrs. Reynolds said, waving off the question.

"Yeah, but a few of them look like they were about to wind up in the hospital," J.J. replied bluntly.

"Good! More time for them to study while they recover!" Mrs. Reynolds cried, a deranged grin on her face.

"Page… it would seem that Lady Reynolds is beyond the point of reason," Tristan sighed.

"Yeah," J.J. agreed reluctantly, before turning to Mrs. Reynolds. "I'm going to ask you something, even though I already know the answer: Will you give up your gem without a fight? You're just harming your students at this point, and I'm sure that's not what you want."

"Not until they've learned to fully apply themselves to their studies. And that could take months," Mrs. Reynolds replied. "Until then, I can't let you interfere with my lesson plans." With that, she pulled her hand out of her pocket, and in her palm, she balanced an acid-green D-former. It began to glow, and she was enveloped in a blinding green light. As the light faded, a gargantuan black lion roared at them, swiping at the pair with a large paw.

J.J. and Tristan both jumped back, and the long claws of the beast swiped empty air where they'd been standing. Both immediately had their transformation trinkets in their hands, with J.J. flipping his diary open to his stat page while Tristan gripped his shield. Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan smiled faintly at J.J., who caught the knight's grin and sighed.

"I really didn't expect that to work," J.J. commented.

"Does it ever?" Tristan asked drily. "Come. We have work to do."

J.J. held his open diary up to his left cheek while Tristan briefly held the shield to his chest before extending it out in front of him. At the same time, both shouted, "Henshin!" Their Drivers appeared around their waists, and they slotted their trinkets at the same time before spinning their personal D-formers.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"**

 **"Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"**

The two Drivers shouted out in unison as an amber die appeared around J.J. and a steel-blue die manifested around Tristan. They spun rapidly as cymbals clashed and a trumpet sounded, heralding their transformations as they were clad in their armor. When the spinning stopped, Tristan hefted his shield while J.J. held out his hand and his quill flew into his hand. As he extended it into its sword form, he gave it a little twirl while staring down the lion.

"Alea iacta est," he murmured softly. Tristan, meanwhile, touched the bull icon of his shield, and a loud bovine bellow echoed in the air as his metallic blue mace appeared out of one corner of his shield and hovered in front of him where he could easily grab it.

The lion took another swipe at them, but Tristan responded by touching the hedgehog icon on his shield. With the sound of steel being unsheathed, spikes erupted from his shield, and he hefted it up to meet the lion's attack. The claw, however, barely missed Tristan's shield as it retracted in time, and Tristan nodded in satisfaction.

J.J.'s hand edged down to his belt, and it rested on his black D-former. If Tristan was going to take point, he should provide backup, he thought. Tristan, however, glanced over his shoulder and shook his head briefly.

"Page, an indirect attack with magic had little effect last time. I believe this time, we should attempt to dispatch our opponent with an all-out assault before she has time to overwhelm us with fatigue," Tristan suggested.

J.J. paused, his thumb brushing the black D-former. "If… you're sure…." he said slowly.

"Have faith, page," Tristan assured him. "You are stronger than you believe."

J.J. grit his teeth, then nodded once and slipped his index finger to his red D-former as well. He spun both die at the same time, and his Driver shouted into the air, **"Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!"** A black and red die combined around him, spinning and coalescing into a silver die as a pipe organ played a few notes. J.J.'s brown armor transmuted into silver chainmail while a light grey tabard fluttered over the heavier armor, and small wings grew out of the sides of his pale grey helmet. When the spinning stopped, he hefted his halberd over his shoulder and glanced over at Tristan.

"Take point, page," Tristan encouraged him. "And do not hesitate."

J.J. took a deep breath, turning to the gargantuan lion, who once more swiped a claw at him. J.J. ducked under the attack, before sprinting forward and gripping his halberd in both hands. He cleaved the lion's paw with a short grunt before it could retract its leg, and as he did, he saw the blade phase through the lion's flesh as though it wasn't there. The lion pulled its paw back, and J.J. saw that it was completely unharmed. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, looking up at the lion.

"So that's it," he murmured. He could have kicked himself for his stupidity. This entire time, he had assumed that the hag's powers were based around shapeshifting, but that wasn't the case. Instead, it was cloaking itself in illusions. That explained how it could continuously avoid any attack he and Tristan threw at it – all Mrs. Reynolds had to do was ensure that the illusion acted in a semi-plausible way to make it seem as though the attacks had outright missed.

In hindsight, and with the knowledge that the hag's powers revolved around dreams, it made sense that she was just using sophisticated illusions. Worse, he realized, was that if he'd just used Paladin Class in the first place, he would have had a major advantage over the hag's shadow-based magic, as Paladin Class was specifically designed to fight darkness-aligned Diemons. This could have ended days ago.

"Well… hindsight's twenty-twenty," J.J. muttered under his breath, gathering his resolve as he squared off against the lion. The monster shapeshifted again, with the lion disappearing only to be replaced by a two-headed, four-armed ape. The gorilla threw a punch at J.J., but by this point the blade of his halberd was glowing white. He let out a short yell and swung his weapon upwards in a short arc, and the blade split the ape's fist in half, with tendrils of shadow curling around the brilliant light of his halberd.

The ape hesitated, shocked at J.J.'s effective counterattack, and J.J. took advantage of the pause in combat. He dove in and swung the glowing halberd in a wide semi-circle, dispelling half of the ape's shadowy form. The black clouds that remained melted away like fog in the wake of J.J.'s attack, and in its place stood the hag's true form – a woman about seven feet tall with an emaciated appearance, matted black hair, and sickly green skin. Grey rags hung off her bony figure, and her face was horribly twisted, with sharp yellow teeth, a jutting chin, and yellow-green eyes that, thankfully, weren't glowing as a sign that she'd achieved Apotheosis yet. There was still a chance to save her, he realized as he felt a wave relief.

"Don't bother throwing up another illusion," J.J. warned her. "I've got all afternoon to keep cutting them down."

The hag snarled and raised a finger, pointing it at J.J.'s chest. Before he could react, a bolt of eerie green light erupted from the tip of it, slamming into his chest. He let out a short grunt as it hit him with the force of an arrow, and he dropped to one knee as a wave of weariness washed over him.

"Sleep-based magic?" J.J. asked, and the hag let out a ragged cackle as she held up her hands.

"How else would I ensure that naughty children get to bed on time?" Mrs. Reynolds replied maliciously. "I can't spin pleasant dreams for them if they're not asleep."

"Explains why you were able to wear us down last time," J.J. said, slowly rising to his feet. "You were hiding those spells in your illusions, weren't you? The flames, the hydra's fangs, all those physical attacks… you were hitting us with the bolts while we were distracted."

"Smart boy," the hag smirked. "Too bad you can't do anything about it."

She began gathering energy for another attack in her finger, which she again pointed at J.J. and unleashed with the force of a crossbow bolt. This time, however, J.J. brought his halberd around and swiped cleanly through the attack, the glowing blade engulfing it and dissipating the spell before it hit him. The hag's grin dropped immediately, replaced with a look of shock.

At that moment, Tristan charged forward, his footsteps resounding heavily as he charged at the hag. As he passed J.J., he said tersely, "Good work, page." Mrs. Reynolds didn't even have time to react before Tristan was upon her, bringing his mace savagely down on her shoulder and causing her to cry out in pain. He followed the attack with a solid kick to her midsection before slamming his mace into her ribs.

Sparks erupted from the hag as she rolled away from the heavy attacks, hissing in pain. She opened her hands, and long claws sprang from the tips of her fingers. She raked her hand at Tristan, but the knight simply raised his shield. The woman cried out in pain as her hand smacked against his own spikes, and before she could recover, he pummeled her with two more hard swings that sent her sprawling fifteen feet away.

J.J. slowly climbed to his feet and he walked over to Tristan, shaking his head to dispel the weariness threatening to overtake him. As he approached the knight from behind, he commented, "Decided to let me take all the damage this time?"

"You deduced that she was using illusions, and Paladin Class is better equipped to fight illusions than my armor is," Tristan shrugged. "And I trusted you enough to expose her true form and to wear her magic down, at which point I assumed she would physically be no match for me."

"You came up with that on the fly?" J.J. asked. Tristan nodded once, and J.J. chuckled. "And you're trying to tell me you're not smart?"

"You're not!" Mrs. Reynolds shrieked, clambering to her feet and pointing her fingers at J.J. and Tristan, who reacted quickly to her blasting them both with her spells. J.J. was able to cut through her attack, while the one aimed at Tristan was deflected into the ground by the knight's shield. However, while the spell itself seemed to do little to Tristan, the knight was already panting from the strain of his heavy armor. J.J., likewise, let out a long breath as he struggled to stay on his feet.

"That said… weak as she is, if this battle is prolonged, she will gain the advantage," Tristan added. "It would be prudent to end it here."

"Suggestions?" J.J. asked quickly.

"Attack her with both of our Critical Kicks," Tristan replied. "Our shields should be enough to dispel any spells she throws at us, and I believe she is weak enough that combined kicks should be enough to defeat her."

J.J. nodded and pulled his diary out of his belt, reverting to Adventurer Class. He quickly flipped over to the hag's stat page while Tristan stood in front of him, shield raised to ward off any more attacks. She had about a little less than half of her health left, but she had weak defenses, so if they hit her at the same time….

"Yeah, I don't think I can stand another blast like that, and we're getting worn out" J.J. agreed, slotting his diary back into his belt. "Let's do it."

The two men put their hands on their central D-formers and gave them a quick spin as twin shouts of **"Critical!"** sounded in the late afternoon air. The hag snarled and pointed her fingers at the pair, but the acid-green spells she flung at them dissipated harmlessly against the spinning amber die and glowing blue shield protecting them. J.J. and Tristan both crouched down before they took off at the same time, running at the hag and jumping in the air in sync. As J.J. began rotating and Tristan extended his leg, she tried to fire off one more spell at each of them, but to no avail, as the spells once more dissipated harmlessly against the holograms. Mrs. Reynolds let out a scream as J.J. and Tristan descended, with J.J. whipping his leg around and Tristan plummeting towards her, protected by his shimmering blue shield. Their kicks connected with her at the same time, with J.J.'s hitting her neck and Tristan's colliding with her stomach. Tristan pushed off of her while J.J. flipped over her and landed lightly on his feet as neon-green cracks began spreading across her body from the impact points of their twin kicks. He could hear her shrieking in pain as he pulled his diary out of his belt and flipped over to her stats page. With a satisfied expression, he watched her health bar dwindle to nothing as she let out a final scream and her hag form shattered into a thousand tiny fractals, leaving Mrs. Reynolds laying on the ground.

J.J. turned around as he snapped his diary shut, but then a figure darted out of nowhere, cackling manically. Both J.J. and Tristan clutched their weapons as the Fool grabbed the green die lying on the ground and leaped into the air, before settling lightly on a tree and tilting his head down at them.

"Okay, _how_ did you even know where we were?!" J.J. shouted up at the clown while Tristan swapped his mace out for his crossbow, with a falcon screeching in the air as he changed weapons.

"We have been following them this entire time," the Fool giggled, tossing the die in the air and catching it casually while Tristan leveled his crossbow at the harlequin. "We had little reason to interfere this time, as they spent much of their time screaming at each other. Why sow chaos when chaos has already been sown?"

"I'd say we've gotten over it," J.J. replied easily. Tristan growled and fired a golden crossbow bolt at the Fool, but the clown simply leaned out of the way, and the bolt flew past it harmlessly.

"So it would seem, wouldn't it?" the clown giggled. "A pity. We had hoped they would bicker longer and let the girl draw out more power, but we suppose this gem will suffice for the master." The Fool sighed and stretched, before lazily gesturing to the stat page still laying on the ground. "Take that if it wishes. We have no use for it. But do try to provide some better entertainment next time. Lessons can be so very boring."

With a screeching cackle, the Fool bounded off through the trees, avoiding the second bolt Tristan vainly shot after it. With a sigh, the knight lowered his weapon, while J.J. pulled his amber D-former out if its slot and his armor dissipated around him before walking over to the fallen stats page.

"Rude," J.J. commented as he gazed at the spot in the trees where the Fool had departed while he slipped the page into his diary. "I rather liked that lesson, myself."

"And I am pleased to see that you learned it well," Tristan replied as he powered down as well. The two men walked over to Mrs. Reynolds, and J.J. gently shook her shoulder to wake her up. The woman let out a low groan before slowly pushing herself up.

"Wha… where?" she asked blearily, looking up at J.J. with a dazed expression.

"Easy," J.J. said, slipping an arm under hers to help her up. "Do you remember anything?"

"Just… lots of flashes of… things at night?" she asked dazedly. She tilted her head at the pair before asking, "What was I doing here?"

"Teaching," J.J. said simply as he helped her to her feet. "That said, I think there are some kids inside the library that you should let go home for the day. They're exhausted."

"They're… not the only ones," Mrs. Reynolds commented wearily. "I feel like I haven't slept in days."

"You likely have not," Tristan chuckled grimly as he took her other arm, and the pair gently escorted her up the stairs.

* * *

"So after all that, she was just put on administrative leave?" Gwen asked, munching on one of the shrimp tacos she had forced J.J. to buy her for lunch.

"There's not much else the school could do," J.J. replied from behind his mask, swaying out of the way of one of Tristan's attacks before launching a thrust of his own. Tristan shifted his shoulder, but J.J. pressed the attack, following the thrust up with a hard slash that connected with Tristan's armor. Tristan nodded in approval while J.J. grinned behind his helmet.

"They could have fired her," Susumu pointed out as he dug a screwdriver into the innards of a pocket watch.

"They could have, but apparently Mrs. Faulkner intervened on her behalf," J.J. replied, pausing to shake his right hand out. "She said that Mrs. Reynolds was a good teacher who needed experience, not punishment. Apparently, Mrs. Faulkner is teaching her some tricks while she's on leave," he added with a slight grin.

"That's kind of her. You said Mrs. Reynolds used to be one of her students, right? Kinda ironic that her old teacher is still teaching her even though she's a teacher. Seems a teacher's work is never done," Susumu commented, grinning at the repeated use of the word.

"Of course not. There is always more to learn, and always more to teach," Tristan replied. "Come, page. Again."

J.J. nodded and crouched low, grinning behind his helmet. They were free-sparring, and Tristan had told him that he was welcome to try anything. So far, he had been practicing pressing the attack in one form, like Tristan had wanted, but if he threw in something unusual….

The two ran at each other, but as he got in range, J.J. suddenly spun his red and black D-formers at the same time. **"Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!"** his Driver shouted, and as the red and black dice coalesced into a single silver one and began spinning around him, an organ played loudly while he closed the distance. He leaped into the air as the transformation finished, but before he could react, he saw that Tristan was aiming his crossbow at him. J.J.'s grin dissolved into a look of horror as the golden crossbow bolt slammed into his unprotected shoulder, sending him flying in the opposite direction. He rolled across the ground and grunted in pain while Tristan stood over him, chuckling faintly. He'd intentionally grazed J.J., so he hadn't taken much damage, but the impact still had him reeling.

"As I said, there is always more to be learned," Tristan commented easily, holding his hand out to J.J. "Now that you've learned the strengths of Paladin Class… we should discuss its weaknesses."

J.J. scowled and took Tristan's hand as the knight pulled him up and began to go over the weaknesses of using a large polearm at close range while off to the side, Gwen and Susumu traded amused looks.


	26. Session 26

**Session 26**

The glowing blue claw of a Shard swiped at J.J.'s leather-armored chest, but he barely managed to lean back in time so that it merely slashed empty air. As it followed the blow with a second slash, he caught the attack on the blade of his saber, and the sharp edge of his sword severed its fingers, the glowing fragments of its hand falling to the ground. The Shard stared silently at its maimed claw for a moment until J.J.'s blade pierced its neck, and it collapsed in a pile of dust.

Taking advantage of the brief break in the battle, J.J. caught his breath as he backed away from two more Shards that were approaching him, holding his sword out in front of him defensively. He was only able to back up a few steps before his back hit the rough wall of one of the run-down apartments typical of Old Marville. For the past few days, Shards had been gathering in the area in unusually large numbers, and he had been asked by the police to help defend the area while simultaneously looking into why so many had appeared in the district lately. Naturally, he had suspected that there might be a Diemon in the area, but there wasn't any evidence of anything out of the ordinary other than the Shards swarming, which had him curious. Was there a Diemon in the area that he just hadn't found yet? Or were the Shards appearing in Old Marville for another reason?

The second Shard ran at him, swinging its fist at him violently, but J.J. was able to duck under the attack and respond with a quick cut across its wrist. The blow was shallow, however, and the Shard didn't seem to notice the counterattack. It continued its charge without slowing down, opening its arms and wrapping J.J. in a bear hug. Before it could do anything more, however, J.J. turned his sword over and stabbed it ruthlessly in the back. The glowing creature dissolved, and he managed to remain on his feet as the ashes crumbled around him. J.J. sighed to himself as he dusted himself off.

He was particularly piqued today, since he was having to fight the Shards alone for the first time in a while. Tristan had asked J.J. to cover his usual patrol routes for a little while. J.J. agreed, though he did ask why, and Tristan explained that he was going to take some time to train and build up his stamina while wearing his armor, so that his lack of endurance was no longer a liability.

It was funny, he mused as he parried a blow from the final Shard before leaping backward to put some distance between him and his opponent. A couple weeks ago, he had been so annoyed with Tristan that he had been thinking it would be better to work alone again. Now that he had gotten that wish, he realized how much he had come to rely on Tristan's assistance. While he could still fight alone, especially against a small group of Shards, he hadn't realized before now how much of a relief it was to not have to keep looking over his shoulder all the time. He almost felt vulnerable without Tristan backing him up, like he was walking into battle with only half as much armor as he would have liked.

The last Shard lunged at J.J., but he held his ground and parried its attack. Its long claws dug deep into the metal of his blade, leaving a long scratch along the flat of his sword. Despite this, he managed to parry the attack just enough to allow him to knock it to the side. Its momentum carried it forward, and J.J. kicked it in the back as it stumbled past him. To his horror, the blow sent it careening through the plate glass front door of an apartment on the bottom floor. Splinters of glass flew everywhere as the Shard tumbled into the living room, its limbs flailing as it crashed into a coffee table. The force of J.J.'s kick carried it through the front room and into the small dining room, where it knocked pots, plates, and utensils everywhere. J.J. winced as the Shard finally collapsed on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, where it stared, dazed, up at the ceiling.

Before it had time to recover, J.J. dashed into the apartment and leaped over the counter to drive his sword into its neck. The Shard looked up at him, its hollow blue eyes meeting his for a long moment, before disintegrating into a pile of dust on the kitchen floor, finally ending the skirmish. J.J. couldn't breathe a sigh of relief just yet, though.

"Is anyone in here?" J.J. shouted, looking around. Then he realized that the tenets might have been hiding, and he added, "This is Page. It's safe to come out now."

When there was no answer, he began to wander through the destroyed living room, gazing back and forth for any signs of movement. Suddenly, his boot nudged something in the rubble. He looked down, kneeling in the glass to get a better look, then grimaced as he picked up a cracked picture frame containing a picture of a woman in a military dress uniform. She was smiling while hugging a red-haired boy in his early teens and an older man that he assumed was her husband.

J.J. swallowed, memorizing their faces so that he knew who to look for while he searched the house for them. He then set the cracked picture gently on a side table before pushing himself up. He spent the next few minutes searching through the house, checking every room thoroughly before deciding that, thankfully, no one was home. At last, he let out a long, slow sigh of relief as he stepped out of the ruined apartment.

J.J. looked down at his sword as he emerged into the daylight, finally noticing the long scratch marring the surface of the metal, and he frowned faintly. Clicking the pommel of his blade, he quickly asked his quill, "Sorry about that. Are you alright? You didn't take any damage, did you?"

The quill flew out of his hand as he pulled his diary from his belt, and it quickly nudged the book open to a blank page, where it began rapidly scribbling. _No major damage has been sustained. I will slowly repair over time without any intervention. However, manual repairs would be appreciated if you would like to dedicate the time. Oiling and buffing would restore my natural luster._

"Kinda sounds to me like you just want to be pampered," J.J. commented as he smirked at his quill. In response, it gave a little flick that J.J. interpreted as a shrug. "Alright, once we get home I'll take an oil rag to you. How's that sound?"

 _Acceptable_ , the quill replied. J.J. chuckled to himself as he heard police sirens, faint at first but steadily growing louder. He shut his diary and stood with his hands behind his back, patiently waiting for the officers to arrive. When they did, he gave a nod to the police as they stepped out of their cars

To his relief, he recognized Sergeant Eaton immediately. As the officer approached him, he looked over J.J.'s shoulder and let out a low whistle.

"Did you have a grudge against the family that lived there or something?" the sergeant asked, nodding to the half-demolished apartment.

"That was an accident," J.J. said quickly, wincing as he looked at the damaged home again. "But… I want to be sure that this isn't going to cost them. It wouldn't be fair for them to have to pay for something that I did."

"That depends. How good is your insurance?" the sergeant asked dryly. J.J. stared at him as panic began to seize him, and he only relaxed when Sergeant Eaton began chuckling. "Relax. I'm kidding. The city's set aside an emergency budget just in case something like this happened. It's not the first time there's been collateral damage, after all. Everything will be paid for by the city, so don't worry."

"Thank you," J.J. sighed in relief.

"Thank the city council," Sergeant Eaton snorted. "If they'd wanted you to pay for it, your debt would already be in the millions."

J.J. felt his throat go dry as he squeaked, "Yeah… yeah, I'm voting for all of them again next term."

Sergeant Eaton laughed as he looked around, folding his arms over his chest. "No sign of a Diemon, though?"

"No. And no one's reported anything unusual, right?" J.J. asked, which Sergeant Eaton confirmed with a nod. "That's odd. Why're the Shards swarming if no one in the area has a D-former?"

"Good question," Sergeant Eaton shrugged. "Might be worth looking into. Still, if the Shards have been taken care of, there's not much else you can do right now. Why don't you head out and let us handle cleaning up around here?"

"Are you sure?" J.J. asked, still feeling guilty. "I can help if you-"

"Kid, relax," Sergeant Eaton interrupted him. "This is our job now. We need you to be alert and ready in case any more monsters show up. You can't do that if you wear yourself out helping us clean up too. Get out of here for now and enjoy the peace and quiet while you can."

"…Right," J.J. agreed finally. He nodded to the sergeant in thanks and walked over to his bike.

Before he could mount it, however, he felt a shiver run down his spine, and he glanced around. He felt like he was being watched, and the feeling was distinctly unfriendly. It wasn't hostile, exactly… it almost felt more like resentment than anything else.

J.J. looked around warily before spotting the shadowy entrance to an alleyway, and he noticed that there was a young man with bright red hair glowering at him intently as he peeked from around the corner of the building. He felt a jolt of worry, as he'd tried to make sure the area was clear of bystanders when the fighting had started – the last thing he needed was another incident like the one he'd had with Kelsie. However, the young man appeared unhurt, thankfully. Still, the way he was glaring at J.J. with such… disgust unnerved him.

"Is… something wrong?" J.J. called out, dismounting and motioning for the young man to come closer. "We can talk, if you'd like. Are you alright?"

The young man, however, simply shook his head, continuing to glare at J.J. without saying anything. Just as he was starting to feel increasingly awkward and uncomfortable, the kid turned around and ran deeper into the alleyway.

J.J. felt another shudder run through his body as he watched the kid run off. For a moment, he considered going after the young man, but he decided against it. He didn't have a reason to, after all. If he'd had a D-former, J.J. would have chased after him, but he'd made a promise to himself not to abuse his position, and without any evidence that the boy had a D-former, he wasn't going to pursue him.

Shaking his head, he made his way back to his bike, and as he mounted it again, he caught sight of other sets of eyes peering down at him. Thankfully, these faces were smiling in gratitude. He gave them a short wave before taking off down the street. Sergeant Eaton was right. It had been a long day, and without any more Shards to fight, he figured it was time to head home.

Halfway back to his apartment, he powered down, before continuing the rest of the way in his civilian clothes. Once he pulled into his parking lot, he pulled off his helmet and dismounted the Bay-cycle. He looked up to the third floor where he lived and noticed a figure moving around in the window. Worry seized him momentarily, but then he calmed down as he realized that it was likely just Gwen. She had a habit of showing up without calling him, but he didn't mind. At least this time, she wasn't likely to throw anything at him, he mused with a wry grin.

Once inside his building, he bounded up the steps and pushed open his apartment door, grabbing the newspaper from in front of his door as he did. As expected, Gwen was flitting around the kitchen, cooking something that smelled strongly of tomatoes. She turned around when the door opened and grinned at him, before walking over and placing a soft kiss on his lips in greeting.

"What, you're not going to force me to buy you dinner tonight?" J.J. teased her as he shrugged off his leather jacket.

"I think you've been punished enough. You've been a good boy for a week and a half, so I figured I'd give you a break," Gwen replied airily.

"Uh-huh. You were just running out of restaurants to sample," J.J. commented accusingly. Gwen stuck her tongue out at him in reply as he moved past her and headed into a closet, where he kept a toolbox. He could feel her looking at him curiously as he opened the box and withdrew a can of oil and a rag. After closing the box, he turned back around and saw Gwen had raised an eyebrow at him.

"Shards," J.J. explained. He held out his hand, and his quill flew into his palm, at which point he clicked it into its sword form. He showed her the shallow gouge on the flat of the blade, and Gwen tutted sympathetically as he carried it over to his coffee table, spread the newspaper across it, and oiled up the rag. Once seated, he started wiping down the blade.

"That's a shame. I'm sorry about your sword, though at least it doesn't seem to be more than a scratch. At least _you_ don't seem too banged up," Gwen commented, eyeing him as she stirred the contents of the pan.

"Nope," J.J. agreed cheerfully, before pausing. "Is it weird that we're casually discussing how I'm fighting mindless abominations like we're talking about going out for drinks after work?"

"Nothing about our lives is normal," Gwen replied calmly, pushing the contents of the pan around while she glanced over her shoulder at him. She noticed that he was gazing at his sword with a slightly downcast expression. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah… just had a weird one earlier," J.J. said, looking down at the table with a frown while absently wiping his sword. "There was this kid glaring at me after the battle. Now, don't get me wrong, I've had people glare at me before – hell, I can't think of a single instance where Karen _wasn't_ glowering at me. But I didn't know this kid, and the way he was looking at me…."

"Did you do something to him?" Gwen asked.

"I mean, I did trash an apartment by accident," J.J. admitted, feeling guilt welling up in the pit of his stomach as he remembered that. "I'm worried he might have been living there."

"Well… that sucks for him if he did, but we're also in a war here. Things are going to get destroyed, even if you don't mean for them to," Gwen shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"No, I get that," J.J. agreed, pausing with the rag on the face of his sword. "But… it was something in his expression. This look of utter resentment… it went beyond just breaking some things in his apartment. I don't know how to explain it…."

"What, do you think he's going to want revenge or something?" Gwen asked. He could tell she was trying to keep her tone light, even flippant, but she likewise couldn't keep the note of worry out of her voice.

"Maybe?" J.J. shrugged. "Like I said, it's just a gut feeling, but-"

Gwen walked over to him and put her hands on his shoulders, making him look up at her. "Okay, even if this becomes a problem, there's nothing you can do about it now. All you can do is face it when the time comes. For now, there's no point in stressing yourself over what might happen, right? It's just like Tristan said – you have a bit of a tendency to worry over speculation when nothing has even happened yet. Until it does, don't wrap yourself up in knots, or you're going to drive yourself insane."

"I… yeah," J.J. agreed, giving her a rueful grin. "Sorry. You're right."

Gwen smiled at him, taking her hands off his shoulder and walking over to the stove again. "So put it out of your mind. Instead, you should worry about the favor I'm going to ask you."

J.J.'s face fell, and he glowered at her sullenly. "You're not gonna extend my punishment for another week or something, are you?" he groused.

"Why? Did you steal something else?" Gwen asked, shooting him an accusing glare.

"I'm not _that_ stupid," J.J. replied dryly. "Plus, there's no point. Dr. Newman hasn't gotten back to me about his research into the book I already gave him. Why would I ask him to study something else when he's not even producing results from what he was already given?"

"Yet another reason why I didn't want him touching my things in the first place," Gwen said through gritted teeth, before relaxing. "Anyways. What I was going to ask you was if you'd mind coming along with me to a speech that I have to give tomorrow?"

J.J. tilted his head at her, a look of confusion on his face. "What speech?"

Gwen sighed, brushing her bangs out of her eyes as she turned down the heat of the stove, letting their dinner simmer while she turned to look at him. "It was a favor that my brother asked of me. He said that we, as members of the Marks family, are obligated to assure the people of the city that things are being taken care of and that the crisis will be over soon."

"Even if it won't?" J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow. Gwen shrugged in reply.

"It's public relations stuff. The townspeople don't want to hear the truth – that we don't know when the crisis is going to end. They just want to be told that it's being dealt with and that they don't have to worry," Gwen explained.

"Uh-huh. And why is he asking you to do it?" J.J. pointed out. "Why isn't he volunteering? For that matter, if you're trying to keep your head down about your heritage, why is he forcing you into this position? I thought you said he was the one who liked that sort of thing, and that you hated it."

"I do," Gwen sighed. "But in this case, he has a point. We're members of the founding dynasty of this city, and our name still carries weight around here. Even if I don't like it, it's what I can do to help the city in my own way."

"That still didn't answer my question," J.J. retorted. "Why you and not him?"

"Because he's already busy managing rebuilding efforts and infrastructure planning," Gwen explained. "I've told you before that he's the businessman in the family, whereas he generally lets me do as I please, which is more than generous of him. In this case, however, he's too busy and can't make an appearance himself, so it's my duty to be the face of the family."

"Is it, though?" J.J. asked, his tone concerned. "It sounds more like he's giving you an order than asking you a favor."

"He is, a little," Gwen admitted. "But he's also got a point that I've got a duty as a Marks to address the people. Think of it like celebrities coming to a disaster site and speaking a few words or helping out a little. Fame carries weight. It makes people feel better if there's a visible, known presence that assures them that there are people at the top looking out for them and trying to help things get better. If nothing else, it's a morale boost."

J.J. sighed lightly, brushing his fingers through his hair before giving her a concerned look. "I just don't like the idea of him forcing you into it."

"He isn't," Gwen assured him. "This kind of thing has come up before. I really don't mind it in small doses, since it's just a quick speech, and it makes people feel better. But I'd really appreciate it if you could come along and support me."

"Yeah, of course," J.J. nodded. "Do you want me to do anything in particular?"

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked. This time, it was her turn to tilt her head.

"I mean, do you want me to wear my suit?" J.J. asked. "Like, do you want me there in a bodyguard role?"

"Oh! No, you don't have to go that far," Gwen assured him, waving off the question. "This is just a little speaking event at a charity function that my brother put together. There'll be music, a few attractions, and fundraising stalls. He's also donating some of his own money to help repair some of the buildings that have been damaged in the recent fights you've had."

J.J. cringed and looked away. "Ah. So then if I were to show up…."

"It'd send the wrong message," Gwen said with a sympathetic smile. "Don't get me wrong, most of the city is grateful that you're fighting for them. But if you were to show up to an event highlighting the damage that's being done to the city, everyone would connect you with the incidents, and that'd be a nightmare for your PR."

"Right…." J.J. agreed, grinning sheepishly. "Not that I'm trying to destroy the city…."

"No, of course not," Gwen said, walking over to poke his forehead. "But it's one of the realities of this crisis."

"Gotcha. Moral support it is," J.J. said.

"And just by doing that, you've made me feel much better about tomorrow," Gwen said with a grin. "See? Just showing a little support for someone can go a long way."

"Still, one of these days we're gonna have to go on a proper date again," J.J. said thoughtfully. "We haven't had one since we dealt with Irene."

"You've been busy," Gwen shrugged. "I understand. And we go out of our way to see each other all the time anyways."

"Yeah, but it's not exactly fair to you," J.J. replied. "If I'm your boyfriend, I should be doing more to make sure you're happy. So… after the speech, what do you say we get some lunch and hit up a movie?"

"We can do that," Gwen agreed, smiling faintly. "You're a good boyfriend, you know."

"I have my moments," J.J. said modestly. "Though I'll ask you not to buy too many snacks. My wallet is still smarting from all those dinners you made me buy."

"Why would you remind me of that?" Gwen asked, frowning at him, though she was also sticking her tongue out playfully. "I just got done praising you for being a good boyfriend, and you're going to highlight how you screwed up?"

"Ah…." J.J. hesitated. "I mean… we both know that I'm kind of an idiot when it comes to relationships. You shouldn't be surprised by now."

"I'm not. It's part of your charm. And that's why you have me to teach you," Gwen grinned at him, before walking over and pushing him up out of his seat. "Now put down your sword and get yourself a plate before the food gets cold."

* * *

"It was smart of the organizers to book this band," Abby commented as she munched on a box of popcorn, nodding her head in time with the music. "They do some good covers."

"You don't like their original music, then, I take it?" J.J. asked, glancing over at her with an amused smirk.

"It's okay, but it's not really my style," Abby admitted.

"And what is? Punk?" J.J. asked.

"K-pop," Abby replied. J.J. stared at her for a moment in disbelief, looking up and down at her gothic attire, and she glowered at him in return. "What? Don't stereotype me."

"Hey, what you like is what you like," J.J. said, holding his hands up defensively.

"It's upbeat and peppy!" Abby protested. "What's not to like about it?

"It's not the music she likes," Ryan said smugly from J.J.'s other side, smirking up at Abby much like a petulant younger brother would. "She's been staring at their lead singer for the past ten minutes." Abby scowled at him and threw a kernel of popcorn in his face while he grinned at her mischievously.

"Enough. Do I have to send you two to your rooms?" J.J. sighed.

"Why'd you bring us here, anyways?" Ryan asked. "Gwen's _your_ girlfriend."

"Because you two said you weren't doing anything, and because there was free food," J.J. shrugged. "I didn't say you had to come. I mentioned that it was something you could do over the weekend if you were bored. I didn't handcuff you and drag you along."

"Abby did," Ryan replied. J.J. glanced at Abby and raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't coming to this thing alone," Abby said. "And I did want to see this band. Besides, what were you going to do with your weekend otherwise?"

"Play video games," Ryan said simply.

"Well, now you're enjoying the fundraiser with your friends," Abby said.

"I have friends other than you guys, you know," Ryan groused.

"Good for you. Now you're spending time with _these_ friends. So shut up and enjoy the music," Abby snapped at him. Ryan looked up at J.J. with a frown, but J.J. was grinning at how thoroughly Abby had torn him apart. He wouldn't be getting any sympathy from the writer.

"Alright, alright. I can play video games any time," Ryan sighed in defeat. "And yeah, I guess this band isn't _that_ bad."

Abby smiled down at him and tried to ruffle his hair, but Ryan ducked out of the way, still scowling at her. J.J. continued to gaze at the girl for a few long moments, and she caught his look before winking at him, unable to keep the cheeky grin off her lips. She then pointed to the stage to draw his attention back to it. The music had come to an end, and J.J. turned back around and spotted Gwen near the edge of the stage, wearing a form-fitting white dress. She slowly walked up the stairs behind a tall, blond, middle-aged woman in a crisp red suit, whom J.J. recognized as the city mayor, Deborah Strasburg.

"Thank you for that performance… Furyspike?" she said hesitantly, peering at the cue card as if he couldn't quite believe the band's name. She shook her head, and the crowd tittered as she looked back up. "Ah… now, we have a few words from Miss Gwen Marks. As some of you may know, the Marks family were the founders of our wonderful city, and she is one of the last remaining descendants. They were also kind enough to put together this event, so please give a round of applause for Miss Marks."

A smattering of polite applause filled the air as Gwen stepped up to the podium. She paused for a second to scan the crowd, and when she caught J.J.'s eye, she smiled. J.J. winked at her in return, at which point she looked up and lowered the microphone to her lips.

"Thank you, Mayor Strasburg," Gwen said. "First of all, I would like to thank all of you for supporting this fundraiser. Your donations are more than just appreciated – they're essential. They're the lifeblood of this city. But your money's value can't be calculated by mere numbers. Rather, your donations are a mark of how much you, the people of Marville, care about where you live.

"This recent crisis has touched all of us in some way. Some of us have lost loved ones. Some of us have had our homes damaged, and some of us still suffer from nightmares about what we've had to endure. But this crisis has also brought out the best in us. We, the citizens of Marville, have proven our strength, our resilience, by remaining steadfast in the face of-"

"What do you intend to do about it, though?" a voice shouted from the back of the crowd, interrupting Gwen's speech.

The onlookers began muttering, and the crowd parted slightly to reveal the speaker – a young man with red hair and a furious expression. J.J. immediately recognized him as the man who had been glaring at him from behind the apartment the other day. He stood with his arms crossed, staring defiantly up at Gwen.

Gwen seemed momentarily put off by the interruption, but she gathered herself quickly and resumed her speech. "Of course, the emergency staff in our city are doing everything in their power to address the situation," she said, almost seamlessly picking up from where she had left off. "Our police are working hard to keep people safe, our firefighters and rescue teams are saving those caught in the crossfire, our doctors are tirelessly working to treat the injured, and our construction teams are hard at work repairing the unfortunate damage the buildings have sustained. And of course, we have the Kamen Riders to thank for-"

"The Kamen Riders?!" the heckler shouted, almost spitting his response. Several people turned to glare at him, while J.J. lowered his head, scowling to himself. While he still wasn't quite ready to claim the title for himself, he felt a spike of annoyance that this guy was scoffing at all the work he had done to fight off the Diemons threatening the city.

"What've you got against the Kamen Riders?" someone shouted back. There were general nods of agreement, and someone else yelled, "They've been protecting this city! Don't badmouth them!"

"Have they?" the young man snarled. "I think they're part of the problem. Think about it. Everything was fine until they showed up."

"What, you think the Kamen Riders are to blame for this?" someone else asked.

"Maybe. Can you prove otherwise?" the young man retorted.

"Yeah, they've been fighting for us this entire time!" someone shouted back. "Unless you'd prefer letting the monsters kill us." At this, there were smatterings of applause. J.J. glanced over his shoulder, and saw that up on stage, Gwen was looking uncomfortable, as if she was trying to decide if she should continue her speech or not.

"Of course I'm not saying that the monsters are any better," the young man agreed, holding up his hands. "I'm saying that I want all the fighting to stop. We shouldn't be singing the praises of the Kamen Riders when they're half the reason the city is getting destroyed."

At this, a few of the people looked thoughtful, though most, thankfully, still seemed to disagree with the heckler. "They've done nothing but help us!" shouted a little boy.

"They could help us more by not fighting in our streets," the young man snarled. "They should be fighting outside the city, not on our doorsteps!"

"What do you want them to do? Grab a ten-foot-tall ogre and carry it to the woods three miles outside of town?" Ryan piped up beside J.J., and the crowd laughed at that, jeering at the heckler. J.J., however, groaned as Ryan drew attention to them, and he lowered his head a bit more. He had been keeping silent and trying to keep his head down. While he hadn't exactly been projecting his identity, he also hadn't done everything in his power to keep it secret, and he was worried at least a few people might recognize him. Gary had pointed out that he had known J.J.'s identity from the get-go, and he couldn't help but wonder how many other people had also figured out his identity. It hadn't been a problem yet, but with emotions running high and people's thoughts directed towards him and Tristan, if they happened to notice that he looked like the guy who was transforming to fight monsters… the last thing he wanted was to be swept up in the brewing drama.

"I want them to stop fighting altogether!" the young man shouted. "I don't want to walk down the street worrying about whether there's a fight going on around the corner! I don't want to have to constantly look over my shoulder wondering if there's going to be an explosion! I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat at the sound of someone riding a motorcycle outside because it sounds like a Kamen Rider hunting for those… creatures!"

There was a moment of silence after this, and a few more members of the audience seemed to be getting swayed to his line of thinking. Then, all at once, the crowd broke out into a shouting match with each other.

"You know, he's got a point. I still haven't gotten my house fixed-"

"Oh, come on! You can't tell me the Kamen Riders aren't doing the right thing!"

"What, you want a war in our streets?"

"Better to have the Riders than the monsters!"

"Are they really any different?! Have you seen what the Riders can do? That ain't normal!"

From J.J.'s perspective, the crowd was split about two to one in favor of the Kamen Riders, but there was now enough dissention that the audience had devolved into a rowdy, spirited shouting match. Gwen grimaced and slowly stepped away from the microphone, since she saw that there was no winning back the crowd at this point. J.J., meanwhile, was fighting his way to the fringes of the crowd, when he heard someone yelling over the rabble.

"Monsters!" someone shrieked, and all at once, the shouts of anger dissolved into screams of panic. J.J. grunted as he shimmied his way out of the crowd just as people began running, and to his relief, he saw that Ryan and Abby had managed to do the same. Both were already making their way over to him. Off to the side, he saw a quartet of Shards shambling towards the fair, their blue claws outstretched and their hollow faces swiveling back and forth as they searched for something.

"Really?" J.J. muttered under his breath. What was attracting these things? Once again, there was no indication that a Diemon was using its powers nearby. Why were they swarming?

"J.J.!" Gwen shouted down at him as she hopped off the stage. "Duck under the stage. There's a space for you to transform."

"Right. Can you get ahold of Tristan?" J.J. asked. "Or Susumu, at least?"

"I'll see what I can do," Gwen replied.

"We'll make sure no one gets trampled," Abby added, and beside her, Ryan nodded emphatically.

"Thanks," J.J. said with a nod. "And stay safe."

"You be careful too," Gwen added, putting her hand on his arm. J.J. winked at her.

"I'm more worried about you. If that went on any longer, a riot was going to break out," he commented.

"And now we get a stampede instead. Transform now, joke later," Gwen insisted. J.J. nodded, ducking under the stage and pulling out his diary as he did. He took a moment to glance around, scowling as he realized how low the stage was. He hoped that his transformation wasn't going to bring the flimsy structure down around his ears.

"Eh. I'll dig my way out if it does," J.J. said to himself he flipped to his stats page and held his book up to his left cheek. "Henshin!"

His Driver materialized around his belt, and he snapped the book shut before slotting it into the central belt buckle and giving his amber D-former a spin. **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted as he was surrounded by an amber die, which spun around him as he was clad in his now-comfortable brown leather armor. As he charged out into the open, he held out his hand, and his quill flew into it as he ran towards the Shards.

"It's Page!" someone shouted, and cheers went up, but J.J. ignored them. He didn't intend to entertain the crowd – he just wanted to deal with the Shards before things became even more chaotic. The timing of the creatures couldn't have been any worse. With the heckler having stoked people's tempers, he was in the spotlight more than he wanted to be, and he swore he could already feel cynical gazes on his back. He quietly warned himself to keep collateral damage to a minimum, especially with so many people still around taking notes on his behavior. Of course, he never wanted anyone to get hurt, but that went double today.

The first Shard took note of J.J.'s transformation, and as predicted, it came after him like a moth drawn to a flame. J.J. gave his sword a small twirl as he muttered under his breath, "Let's get this done quickly." As it drew near him, it swiped a claw at him, but J.J. took a step back to avoid the attack. He stepped in to attack it, but he was caught off-guard as it slammed a fist into his stomach. Groaning in pain, he staggered backwards, muttering under his breath, "What, are they learning my moves now? That's usually worked before."

He let out a cough as the Shard cocked its fist back to slam into him again, but it was telegraphing too much and he could read the attack. His saber flashed above him in a short, vicious arc, and the Shard was left staring blankly at its stump of an arm. Before it could recover from the shock, J.J. slashed it again, cutting it across its throat, whereupon it crumbled into dust.

As he was about to attack the second Shard, however, a voice shouted at him, "No! Stop causing trouble already!"

J.J. paused and glanced over his shoulder to see the young man with red hair standing a few feet away from him, his fists clenched and a look of rage on his face. "Every time you show up, you make things worse! Just get out of here!" he shouted at J.J.

J.J. lowered his head in annoyance, his face bearing an expression of "Are you serious?" behind his mask. "I can't do that," J.J. explained. "I'm not going to let these Shards run wild, especially when there are people around."

"This is your fault! They always show up wherever you are!" the young man accused him, motioning to the Shards, which had stopped for some reason to watch the pair arguing. "And that's when people start getting hurt! I'm sick of people treating you like a hero when all you do is destroy everything around you!" the young man snarled, jabbing a finger at him. J.J., however, sighed and turned his back on the man, ignoring him and focusing on the remaining three Shards.

"Yeah, I don't have time to deal with idiots right now," J.J. said coldly. "You wanna talk about casualties? Most of them are morons like you who stick around watching when they should be running. Get yourself to safety before you get hurt."

"No," the red-headed man replied shortly. "What I'm going to do instead is make sure you can't destroy anything else."

J.J. felt a chill run down his back at those words, and he slowly looked over his shoulder. Then, his eyes widened. The young man was holding a brownish-orange D-former in his hand, and as J.J. watched, he was enveloped in a flash of dark orange light that made him throw a hand over his eyes. As the light faded, the young man's form had been replaced with an insectoid creature. Its chitinous body was dusty brown, and it vaguely resembled a cockroach. However, it had four limbs instead of six and it stood upright, with its front two limbs ending in three-fingered hands. Antenna had sprouted from its head, and they extended out into long, feathery tendrils that looked more akin to moth antenna than those of a beetle. A long, spiked tail whipped around behind it, and its beak-like mouth opened to let out a low, hissing rattle as it stood before J.J.

"Well… that explains why the Shards have been gathering so much lately whenever you were around," J.J. commented blandly, turning his full attention to the Diemon. "You want to know why you've been seeing so many monsters lately? It's because you have that jewel. They're attracted to those things."

"Then that explains why they appear around you, too," the Diemon said, its voice raspy and dry. "Since you're using them like I am. You even have four of them!"

J.J. frowned behind his helmet. He had to concede that point; the Shards did gravitate towards him whenever there weren't any Diemons around. That didn't excuse the young man's own use of a D-former, though.

"Look, I don't want to have to fight you," J.J. began, but the monster cut him off with a short, barking laugh.

"Of course you do. That's all you've done since you first showed up in this city," the Diemon scoffed.

J.J. stared at the Diemon, then said slowly, "I think I know what brought this on. That apartment that I accidentally destroyed the other day… that was yours, wasn't it?"

The Diemon seized up, hissing softly as he replied, "Yeah, it was."

"I see. Look, I'm sorry for the damage I did," J.J. said, holding his hands up. "It wasn't intentional. But the things that were damaged can be repaired or replaced, and I've made sure that you won't have to pay for it. And at least no one was hurt, right?"

"You think that makes it okay?!" the Diemon barked at him. "You didn't just knock over a chair or break a few dishes! That was my home! You destroyed _memories_ , things that were important to me! That wasn't just a bit of property damage, that was my life! What, you think that just because no one got hurt, you're off the hook?"

"That's not what I meant-" J.J. began, but the monster cut him off.

"And that's just one small example of how much damage you've done to this city!" the Diemon ranted at him. "How many other people have had their lives destroyed because of you? How many innocent bystanders have ended up in the hospital, or have wound up homeless thanks to your battles? And how many of _them_ did you offer a half-hearted apology to?"

J.J. swallowed as Kelsie's face briefly flashed before him. He gripped his saber, giving it a little twirl to calm his nerves before taking a slow, steadying breath. "As I said, I'm sorry for how you've suffered," J.J. repeated, his tone much colder. "However, you're using one of the Black Seraph's jewels, and no matter what your reason is, that's not something I can let slide. Even if you don't want me to, I'm going to save you from yourself. I'm going to ask you once – will you please hand over your jewel without a fight?"

"Of course not," the Diemon sneered. "Not until I've made it so you can't ever hurt anyone again!"

"That's… what I figured," J.J. sighed. "Alea iacta est," he murmured, before running forward to engage the Diemon.

To his surprise, the Diemon began cowering in front of him, instead of fighting back. Usually, they were eager to fight. He didn't break stride, however; if he wasn't going to fight, then he could force the young man revert to his human form quickly, which made his job easy. As he raised his blade, however, something flashed in the corner of his eye. His reflexes saved him, as he rolled to the side just as a massive blade cleaved through the air where he had been running a moment ago. J.J. stopped in a low crouch and looked up warily as a looming figure stood over him.

Instantly, J.J. recognized the scaled red armor and bat-winged helmet of Sir Agnar, the self-proclaimed Kamen Rider Dracon. The former Almencian knight rested his flame-styled greatsword on his shoulder, holding it with one hand as he stood between J.J. and the insectoid Diemon. J.J. narrowed his eyes as he picked himself up off the asphalt while Agnar stared at him levelly.

"You have become faster," Agnar remarked. "I see that you have continued to train with Sir Tristan. Though I wonder at his absence. If he trusts you to fight in his stead, his faith is sorely misplaced."

"I don't recall asking for your approval," J.J. snapped, starting to circle around the knight, hoping to get a good angle on the Diemon cowering behind him. Agnar subtly shifted as J.J. prowled, keeping his charge safe. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd decided to become a mole-person and live underground permanently."

"I go where I am needed," Agnar replied. "My lord has decreed that young Oliver here deserves my protection, and he does not trust the Fool to look after him."

"Really now?" J.J. asked, narrowing his eyes. "And what makes him so special? This is only the second time I've seen you play bodyguard for someone. What about the last three Diemons that I took out, how come they didn't get this kind of protection?"

"My lord's plans are an enigma, indiscernible to the likes of mere peasants that-" Agnar began pompously, but J.J. cut him off.

"Uh-huh. Let me see if I can figure this out. He's going after D-formers, particularly ones that are more developed, and if a person can achieve Apotheosis, he feels like he's hit the jackpot. The Fool doesn't have the best track record for giving him fully developed D-formers, but you're obsessed with fully completing any mission you're given. Therefore… Oliver, was it? He's got a better than average chance of achieving Apotheosis, and you got assigned to guard him just to be sure. That about right?" J.J. asked with a smirk.

Agnar remained silent for a few long moments before saying blandly, "You may pontificate all you wish, peasant. The more time you spend speaking, the closer Oliver comes to fulfilling his destiny."

"Fair point," J.J. agreed, pausing in his pacing. "And the only way to get to him is through you, right?"

"Quite," Agnar agreed.

"Hm," J.J. said, chewing on his lower lip. He briefly considered using Thief Class to dart around Agnar and try and take out Oliver as quickly as he could, but he already knew that Agnar would be expecting that trick. Mage Class… Agnar was unaffected by his magic the last time he used it, so he could just stand in front of any spells he cast. And Warrior Class was still too slow to be effective. J.J. smiled grimly behind his mask. He wondered if Tristan's insistence that he learn to master his newest class was in preparation for squaring off against Agnar again. His partner really did have much more foresight than he did when it came to combat.

"If I have to go through you, then Occam's Razor it is," J.J. said, putting his fingers on his red and black D-formers. He gave them a spin at the same time, and his Driver shouted into the air, **"Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!"**

Twin dice colored red and black surrounded him, coalescing into a single silver die that spun around him as an organ played, heralding his transformation. His brown leather armor was replaced by heavier chainmail covered by a light grey tabard, and his sword elongated to become an elegant halberd, which he rested on his shoulder as the die finished spinning around him.

If Agnar was surprised by his new form, he didn't show it; his body language betrayed no visible reaction. However, he did remark, "You are carrying yourself with far more confidence than the last time we engaged each other. You must feel as though you can prevail."

"I dunno. Could be," J.J. replied with a modest shrug.

"Allow me to dispel that misconception, then," Agnar said, pulling his claymore off of his own shoulder and holding it in front of him, while J.J. dropped into a low stance, gripping his halberd tightly with both hands. The pair stared at each other silently for a few moments, each watching the other for an opening. It was Agnar that made the first move, lifting his sword up and holding it next to his shoulder before stepping forward and bringing it down in a vicious slash.

J.J. was well out of range of the strike, but he still took an extra step back to prevent Agnar from following the opening strike with a second blow. The red-armored knight spun, using his momentum to charge forward and deliver a second overhand strike, which J.J. again backed away from. Before he could throw a third strike, J.J. jabbed forward with his halberd, the spearhead on the top of his weapon aimed at Agnar's faceplate. The knight easily swayed out of the way, but J.J. followed up the attack with a second jab aimed at his chest. Agnar had stepped forward to press his attack, and he was caught off-guard when the point of J.J.'s weapon connected with his breastplate. Agnar let out a grunt of surprise as the wind was knocked out of him, and he doubled over for a second, allowing J.J. to take another step back.

The way that Agnar slowly raised his head indicated that he was shocked, though J.J. was equally surprised that he'd managed to land a blow on the Almencian captain. He was so surprised that he failed to press the attack, though it was clear that the light jab hadn't done any real damage anyways. Agnar straightened up after a moment, tapping his sternum with his fist as if clearing his chest of a cough. He then gripped his claymore and began attacking once more. This time, he struck with a series of three vicious slashes, one diagonal and two horizontal. The first J.J. stepped away from, the second he parried aside with the head of his weapon, and the third was close enough that he was forced to catch it on the haft. The claymore's blade dug into the shaft of the halberd, and the two were momentarily locked before Agnar lifted his foot and kicked J.J. in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards as he coughed.

Agnar advanced once again as J.J. took his fighting pose again, with the knight once more gripping his claymore tightly. He brought it behind his shoulder in a vicious attempt to cleave J.J. horizontally, but this time J.J. mirrored the move, slashing at Agnar from the other direction. The metal parts of the weapons collided and clanged loudly in the open air. J.J. winced, his hands trembling from the vibrations running up the haft of his halberd, though Agnar seemed unaffected. J.J. tightened his grip on the halberd as Agnar brought his sword down in an overhead attack, which J.J. caught once more on the shaft. He bent his knees this time, absorbing the blow, before using his low position to push back on Agnar. Though the knight was stronger, he was surprised by the maneuver, actually being forced back a step, and J.J. took advantage of his lowered guard to strike back with another slash of his own. Agnar, however, shifted his blade in time to catch the attack, though the blade of J.J.'s halberd came within inches of striking his flank. Growling under his breath, he didn't press the attack, instead withdrawing and stepping back. The two began to circle each other once again, watching for an opening.

"That new form of yours does seem superior to your previous ones," Agnar commented. It almost sounded as though he was praising J.J. until he added, "Your diary truly has produced yet another wonder of Almencian alchemical engineering. You owe your life to Sir Quintus' genius."

"You act as if I don't know that," J.J. replied blandly, jabbing at Agnar as he spoke, though the knight easily batted the probing attack aside. "And I also owe Tristan for teaching me how to fight properly. I never had any illusions about that."

"It is good that you pay proper respect to your betters, then," Agnar said, thrusting at J.J. with an attack of his own, one that J.J. was able to knock aside. "However, that is the least a peasant should do when a lord turns his gaze upon them. Furthermore, while you have improved marginally, your blows are still sloppy, amateurish. Tristan is wasting his time training one such as you."

"You can stop with the classism any time, you know. We don't even have that kind of class system anymore. No one in this country has to pay respect to a lord, because no one here _is_ a lord. Besides, wasn't Tristan a peasant as well?" J.J. pointed out.

"Tristan is a rare exception, one who possessed enough talent to rise above his station. He earned his knighthood. He is not a thief that happened to stumble across an Almencian artifact that was never meant for him," Agnar snarled at him. "Nor does he depend on his suit's power alone to keep him alive, as you do, peasant."

"And what about you?" J.J. shot back. "I haven't even seen you without that suit on. Aren't you relying on it even more than I am?"

"Of course not. In the end, what matters is not the power of the armor, but the skill of its wielder," Agnar replied. "Unfortunately for you, not only does my skill surpass yours, my armor is far superior to your own, even with your slim improvement."

J.J. bit the inside of his cheek as he considered Agnar's boast. He wasn't wrong, J.J. had to admit, much to his chagrin. Even though he could now counter Agnar's most basic strikes, he knew that the knight was still holding back and studying him, gauging the limits of his power. To his own credit, J.J. wasn't going full-power either – he still had some strength he was keeping in reserve. That said, he could tell that Agnar at his best was still far superior to anything he could muster at this point.

"If that's the case, I suppose I should go all-out, before you decide to stop holding back," J.J. murmured under his breath. He moved his hand down to his red and black D-formers, and he gave them a quick spin. His Driver shouted **"Critical!"** as his halberd's head began to glow silver-white.

"Ah, so you wish to end this now?" Agnar asked, dropping into a more defensive stance. "Very well, attack if you dare."

J.J. gripped his halberd tightly, letting out a long, slow breath. Despite his declaration, he intended to hold back a bit, since he doubted that even a Critical was going to do any more than moderate damage to Agnar, even if it connected. He couldn't put all his strength into this one attack, or he would be left wide-open for a counter. Hopefully, this Critical would be just powerful enough to cripple Agnar and allow J.J. to keep fighting… if he was lucky. This was a gamble, and he knew that anything less than a perfect strike could have deadly consequences.

Agnar, for his part, seemed amused that J.J. was trying a finishing attack against him, and he calmly held his sword above his head in a counter-attacking position. J.J. gauged his stance while his halberd began vibrating in his hand from how much power was building in the blade. Agnar was no doubt faster than he was, but he had more reach with his halberd. If he could keep just outside of the knight's range….

"Stop!" a raspy voice shouted suddenly. J.J. glanced over his shoulder to see Oliver charging at him. He was surprisingly fast, and J.J. didn't have time to react as the Diemon got inside his range. "I'm sick of the fighting! Both of you… just… stop!"

J.J. tried to step back, but Oliver's long, feathery antenna swept out in front of him, brushing over the haft of J.J.'s halberd before running up the blade. Almost immediately, the glowing in his halberd stopped, and to his shock, the glittering silver surface of his weapon became coated in a thick layer of rust wherever the antenna touched. In a matter of seconds, the edge of his halberd was blunted and useless, its metal corroded to the point where it was swollen and almost unrecognizable.

J.J. immediately jumped back, swinging his halberd at Oliver in retaliation. The Diemon cowered at the blow, closing his black compound eyes, but with the edge completely dulled, it bounced off his hide harmlessly, dealing no damage. J.J. cursed under his breath as he stepped back, running his thumb over the rust in an effort to chip a bit of it off, but it was apparent that the layer of rust was so thick that he wasn't going to be able to remove it. Worse, he was worried that trying to might damage his weapon even more. While his quill had informed him that it could repair itself, he couldn't imagine any way it could shrug off this much rust.

"What're you doing?" J.J. shouted at Oliver, lowering his now-useless halberd while glaring at the Diemon from behind his helmet.

"I already told you, I want the fighting to stop!" Oliver snapped back at him. "That's what the Black Seraph did for me! He made it so that I can make any weapon useless, so that they can't be used to harm anyone ever again!"

J.J. hissed under his breath as he gazed at his halberd, trying to figure out a solution. Warrior Class's hammer didn't need an edge to be effective, but he also didn't know how deep the rust ran. If it had dissolved clean through the metal, swinging the hammer while it was weakened might break the head off entirely. Thief Class was no better, obviously, but perhaps….

J.J. retreated backwards several steps and put his hand on his black D-former, giving it a spin as his Driver shouted, **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** Chimes sang gently in the air as he was enveloped in a black die, which spun around him as his silver armor was replaced with a black tunic. His halberd screeched in protest as it was transmuted into a long staff, which he gave a slight twirl as his transformation finished. To his annoyance, however, he saw that the rust hadn't disappeared with the class change, as it had eaten halfway up the haft of the black metal staff. Hopefully, however, it was still intact enough to be usable.

He looked up at Agnar, who stepped in front of Oliver to protect him, his sword held in a defensive stance. J.J. knew that he was in a bad spot – Agnar had previously demonstrated that J.J.'s spells were virtually useless against his armor. However, J.J. also knew that he didn't have any other options, and it was better to at least try to cast a few potentially ineffective spells than use a blunted weapon that he knew had no chance of harming Agnar.

Thankfully, he was already seething with enough anger that he had no issues gathering his emotions to cast spells. He cooled them down and pointed his staff at Agnar, though his true target was the Diemon slinking around behind him. What he was hoping was that he could unleash a spell powerful enough to wash around Agnar and do some damage to Oliver.

J.J. let out a long, slow breath as he released the magic for his spell, focusing as much raw emotion into it as he could. To his chagrin, nothing happened – the end of his staff was too rusted for him to channel spells through. He realized, with growing fear, that he was completely unarmed as he stared down Agnar.

The draconic knight seemed to realize this too. Before J.J. could regroup and figure out another plan, Agnar charged him, holding his claymore above his head and bringing it down in a vicious slash. J.J. jumped back, avoiding the initial attack, but Agnar pressed him, continuing to charge at him. He swung his greatsword around and this time caught J.J. with a short horizontal slash. J.J. let out a yell of pain as it connected with his ribs, and he worried one of them might have cracked. He was thrown across the pavement, bouncing twice before coming to a halt. He let out a groan as he started to pick himself up, while Agnar advanced on him.

"Wait!" he heard Oliver shouting. "I said that I wanted to stop the war in this city! If this continues, then you're not any better than he is! Can't you just let him go? He obviously can't fight anymore!"

"I swore that I would protect you, Oliver," Agnar replied stoically as he advanced on J.J., who picked himself up and put his hand on his red D-former. "I am not beholden to your commands, however, and I will use whatever means I must to ensure that you are protected. In this case, I have determined that I must deal with this peasant, as he continues to threaten you. Though I must confess, I take no small amount of pleasure in dispatching him."

"We can talk this out! Please, just stop!" Oliver pleaded. J.J., meanwhile, gave his red D-former a spin, as at this point, Warrior Class had the best chance of surviving a straight-up brawl with Agnar. Even if that percentage of a chance was in the single digits, he thought bitterly. **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** his Driver shouted, and it bought him a few seconds as he was engulfed in a ruby die that spun around him as war drums played. Agnar stood patiently outside of the range of the spinning die while J.J. gripped his hammer from inside the protective barrier, bracing himself for the attack he knew was coming.

As soon as the die stopped spinning, Agnar brought his sword down in a short, cleaving arc, but J.J. had started his attack before the die had stopped rotating, and the dragon knight was caught off-guard by J.J.'s preparation. The head of his hammer slammed into Agnar's side before his claymore could do more than bite shallowly into J.J.'s armor, and Agnar staggered back a couple steps, to J.J.'s grim satisfaction. Agnar recovered quickly, however, and with J.J. unable to keep up with his speed, he responded by slashing viciously at J.J., who barely managed to defend himself. He was able to deflect the first two diagonal blows, but the third hit his weakened hammer cleanly. The head of the hammer snapped, and J.J. grunted at the sudden shift in weight, stumbling forward. The head of his hammer had almost been severed from the rest of the haft, and it now hung limply, barely connected to the rest of the shaft by a thin strip of metal and rust. Agnar took full advantage of J.J.'s lowered guard and kicked him in the chest. J.J.'s grip was torn from his weapon, and he sprawled on his back a few feet away, almost completely unable to defend himself now that he was unarmed.

Oliver pulled on Agnar's arm, insisting in a panicked tone, "That's enough! You've beaten him, so let's go already!"

Agnar, however, ignored the Diemon's pleas, shaking him off, his gaze fixated entirely on J.J., who pushed himself up onto his elbows as he grunted. The red knight rested his greatsword across his shoulders as he stared down at J.J. wordlessly for a few long moments.

"I must commend you on your surprisingly rapid improvement," Agnar said gruffly as J.J. stared up at him. "You fared far better in this battle than even just a few weeks prior. That is an impressive feat, particularly for a mere commoner. However, you obviously still lack the skill required to fight me evenly. What's more, it is your very growth that marks you as a threat. You may not pose a challenge to me now, but that would likely soon change. Therefore, I shall not take chances. You will never stand against myself or my lord again. Farewell, peasant."

J.J. inhaled sharply as time seemed to slow down. He was vaguely aware of Oliver's desperate pleas for the red knight to stop, of the ruined street around him, and of the throbbing pain expanding across his body. What he was most focused on, though, was the heavy, gleaming, flame-patterned blade that Agnar raised above his head to bring it down on him in one fell swoop, like an executioner about to unceremoniously end a prisoner's life. And he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.


	27. Session 27

**Session 27**

As Agnar stood over him with his claymore raised over his head, J.J. felt that he was savoring the moment before he finally rid himself of a nuisance. He felt like a cockroach that was about to get stepped on, and he could almost imagine Agnar grinning with glee behind his helmet. Before the knight could swing his sword, however, a flash of white cut across J.J.'s vision, and Gwen had suddenly interposed herself between the two of them, standing with her arms out in an effort to prevent Agnar from attacking.

Agnar hesitated, before drawing himself up a bit more, towering over Gwen in an effort to intimidate her into moving out of the way. "Stand aside, girl," Agnar growled dangerously. "There is no need for you to be cut down with this one."

"No. Lower your sword and leave," Gwen replied firmly. Agnar tilted his head, seeming simultaneously confused, annoyed, and amused.

"And who are you to order me, child?" he sneered, keeping his blade raised. "I shall not warn you again. Stand aside."

"You wouldn't dare harm me," Gwen replied. "Who am I? My name is Gwen Marks."

Agnar stared at her for a moment, before asking slowly, "Might you be the scion of-?"

"Yeah, I'm one of the heirs to the Marks family name, though I try not to flaunt it," Gwen said shortly. "And you've sworn fealty to the Marks family, haven't you? That's what Page told me anyways."

"I… have," Agnar said slowly, his voice dangerously soft.

"Then obey my command," Gwen ordered him. Even though her back was to him, J.J. could envision the steely look in her icy blue eyes. Once she had that stubborn look on her face, there was no force on Earth that could dissuade her, he thought with a wry smile.

"My lady… I have been ordered by my lord, the Black Seraph to-" Agnar began, but Gwen cut him off with a raised hand.

"He ordered you to protect that Diemon, didn't he?" Gwen interrupted.

"He… did…." Agnar said slowly.

"And did he say anywhere in those orders that you were also to kill Page?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest defiantly.

"…No," Agnar admitted, looking away. "But in order to properly protect my charge, I must remove threats-"

"If he didn't give you a direct order to kill him, then I'm commanding you to stand down," Gwen said fiercely. "Your job is to protect that Diemon? Fine, I won't countermand that. But it'd sully your honor or something if you disobeyed a command from a lady of the family you serve, wouldn't it?"

Agnar hesitated, seeming conflicted. It was obvious that he wanted to end J.J.'s life then and there, but it was apparent that Gwen was making too strong of a point for him to ignore. Finally, after several tense moments, he lowered his head and his sword, and put his fist to his breast.

"As you command, my lady," Agnar said finally. As he raised his head again, however, he pointed his sword at J.J.'s fallen form. "She will not be around to protect you forever, peasant," he spat at J.J. "Enjoy your dishonorable truce for now. Should – when – our paths cross again, your life is forfeit."

Agnar turned around and walked away, putting his hand on Oliver's shoulder and roughly guiding him away from the battlefield. J.J. could see the hand gripping his claymore shaking in rage. J.J. grunted and slowly pushed himself up as Gwen knelt beside him, putting her hands on his chest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you like that," she said softly.

"Embarrass me? You saved my life, Gwen," J.J. replied, waving off her concerns. "I'm not an Almencian knight, you know. I'll happily accept help anywhere I can get it. Thank you for stepping in when you did, because I honestly didn't have a chance at that point," he assured her with a smile. However, that smile slowly faded as his fingers closed around the haft of his broken hammer. He added in a soft voice, "Though I do wish that I could have done a little more. Looks like I'm still way out of my league."

"You didn't die," Gwen pointed out. "In fact, you were holding your own pretty well for a bit. If that Diemon didn't intervene…."

"I still would have lost," J.J. interrupted. "I'm not going to delude myself, Gwen. Agnar was surprised that I had gotten a bit better, but he was still toying with me. He could have finished me at any time, but he didn't. He was playing cat-and-mouse."

"What makes you say that?" Gwen asked, tilting her head. "You landed a few hits on him."

"Even though I hit him a couple times, I didn't do any damage," J.J. replied, sighing softly. "And even if I had… did you notice that he still has yet to use a single Critical?"

Gwen fell silent as she realized that he was right. J.J., however, shook his head and pushed himself up. "No use in dwelling on that now, though," he added, looking down at his broken hammer. "We've got a break, and I don't have time to mope." He pulled his D-former out of the diary, canceling his transformation, since he was sure that there were few, if any, witnesses left. His hammer changed forms again, reverting to its base form as a saber. The damage remained, however – he had to quickly catch the hanging bit of steel to keep it from swinging wildly and breaking in half, and the blade was still completely rusted. Still, there was who could help. Maybe – hopefully – his sword could still be saved if he hurried and it didn't suffer any more damage in the meantime.

"I'm going to take this thing to Susumu," he announced, still delicately holding his sword while glancing over his shoulder at Gwen. "Do you want me to drop you off at your place?"

"Nah… it looks like the press is going to want someone to talk to," Gwen said grimly, as sirens began approaching. "I'll give them a story, since that's _my_ duty. Yours is to get yourself back into fighting form. Get going."

J.J. paused and gave her a tender smile before nodding once and walking over to his bike. He let out a deep sigh and squared his shoulders, while behind him he could hear Gwen doing the same. She was right. They each had their own battles to fight, and by the end of the day, they were both going to be exhausted.

* * *

J.J. had taken the time to carefully wrap his sword in his jacket to prevent any further damage as he drove, and he raced as quickly as he could to Susumu's garage, coming to a halt on the gravel before removing his helmet and half-jumping off the back of his bike. Susumu was sitting in front of his workbench, poking something with a screwdriver, when he caught sight of J.J. jogging towards him. His friendly smile faded when he saw the serious look on J.J.'s face.

"What is _that_? Did you lose an arm or something?" Susumu asked, nodding to the sword that J.J. was cradling in his arms.

"Cute," J.J. said shortly, unwrapping the jacket and showing Susumu the twisted remnants of his blade. Susumu grimaced as J.J. set it on the table in front of him.

"The hell did you do?" Susumu asked incredulously, gingerly poking at the layer of rust encrusting the blade. "It looks like you tossed it in a vat of acid and then broke it over your knee."

"You can thank the Diemon I was fighting," J.J. replied, looking over at the mechanic. "I was hoping that you might have something that can get rid of rust."

"Yeah, I do have a few things, but… I'm not sure if the sword can be saved," Susumu said, gingerly holding up the half of the sword that was dangling by a thread of metal. "We'd need a blacksmith to come in and re-forge it. I don't even know what type of metal this thing is made of, since it's clearly not steel…."

"That reminds me. The sword said that it would repair itself over time," J.J. said, glancing over at Susumu. "What if we treat it like a broken bone? Just remove the rust and hold it together?"

Susumu frowned at the blade before shaking his head. "It pains me to say this, but I'm out of my depth here. Tristan might know more. Would you mind grabbing him for me?"

"Sure. Where is he?" J.J. asked. Susumu stared at him blankly.

"You… seriously didn't see or hear him coming in?" Susumu asked, his voice flat with utter surprise. J.J. blinked, shaking his head. Susumu sighed, jerking his thumb through the back wall, indicating that J.J. should head that way.

J.J. pushed himself up apprehensively as he made his way out of the garage and around the back. When he came around the corner, he realized why Susumu was amazed that J.J. hadn't noticed Tristan when he'd first arrived. The knight was in full armor and chained to two buses, and as J.J. watched, he dragged the buses across the lawn, grunting and straining the entire time, but managing to move the two huge vehicles. J.J. stared, slack-jawed, for thirty seconds, as Tristan slowly did a lap around the grass, before he seemed to realize that he was being watched. He unchained himself from the buses and jogged over to J.J., panting as he approached.

"Good… day… Page," he greeted J.J. "Have you… need of me?"

"Yeah, uh… first… what… what's going on with that?" he asked, nodding over Tristan's shoulder at the buses.

"I told you… I was training… did I not?" Tristan asked, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. J.J. stared at Tristan in disbelief.

"You said you were working on your endurance! I thought that meant running for miles in your armor or something, not acting like some kind of superhuman parking attendant!" J.J. cried.

"Page, you know how much power our armor imparts," Tristan said, waving off his concerns. "It is combat that strains my abilities, and to achieve a similar level of stress, I must replicate such situations by subjecting my body to equally harsh conditions. Surely, you've realized that in your own armor, even moving an automobile is a relatively simple task?"

J.J. quirked his mouth, realizing Tristan did have a point. "Still, I'm surprised that you went all out all at once," he commented. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I shall endeavor not to," Tristan chuckled. "But you looked as though you had something you wished to speak with me about?"

"Susumu called for you," he said, motioning for Tristan to follow him. "He wanted to know if you knew anything about my sword repairing itself."

"Ah, yes, Lord Quintus did make our suits so that they will slowly restore themselves over time, though it is a gradual process," Tristan replied. "It is quite the relief not needing to maintain my armor, actually. The metal itself almost seems as though it is alive at times." He shot J.J. a sideways look from behind his helmet and added, "Though, I must ask, which enemy was powerful enough to do enough damage to your blade as to break it?"

"There's a new Diemon that can corrode metal," J.J. explained. "It weakened my sword and made it brittle enough to break."

"Ah… forgive me if I am still skeptical, page," Tristan said as they rounded the corner and stepped into Susumu's garage. "A mere Diemon should not typically have had that much power, unless it achieved Apotheosis."

"Well… it wasn't the Diemon that actually broke the sword," J.J. admitted slowly. "Agnar was there too."

Tristan froze in place, before slowly turning around. J.J. could almost taste the rage radiating off of the knight. "Sir Agnar… reappeared?" he asked in a dangerously soft voice.

"Yeah," J.J. said quietly. "It looks like the Black Seraph's got a major interest in this particular Diemon, so he has Agnar running security for him right now. I didn't want to fight him, but he didn't give me a choice."

"No… I suppose he would not," Tristan said softly, looking down at the ground. "You did well, then, page, to engage him and survive. You have grown stronger."

"I was lucky that Gwen was there and chased him off," J.J. said. He frowned, however, when Tristan didn't reply. "You doing okay there? You're not planning on doing something stupid, are you?" he asked, his features settling into a scowl.

"…No," Tristan said softly. "There is still the matter of my blood feud with him for killing my kin, however…."

"Yeah, that's the definition of 'doing something stupid,' Tristan," J.J. said shortly. "You're not in any shape to duel him."

Tristan turned to look at J.J., and when he spoke, there was a slight edge to his voice. "Do not speak to me of my condition," he growled. "A novice warrior has no right-!"

"Do you think you can beat him right now?" J.J. asked simply, folding his arms over his chest. "You were training to build your endurance, right? Do you think you could outlast him in a fight, or would he overwhelm you? Hell, you said that _I_ could outlast you if I kept pushing you long enough. So do you stand a chance against him?"

Tristan hesitated, then slowly looked away, tacitly answering the question. J.J. pressed, "Furthermore, he doesn't seem to be on a deadline to fight you either. Right now, you should keep training, and let me worry about him. Besides, we don't know what metals this Diemon can affect. It's possible he could turn your entire suit of armor into a heap of rust, and then you'd really be screwed if you fought it. I, at least, would just lose my sword."

Tristan was slowly closing and opening his hand – a sign of irritation – but then he finally said in that same soft voice, "Allow me to inspect your blade."

Susumu motioned Tristan over to take a look at the sword, and the knight quietly examined it for several long moments before nodding. "Only the surface has suffered damage; the core is unharmed. Simply place the two halves together, ensuring that the un-rusted metal is touching, and the blade will fuse once more. Once they are bound together, remove the rust and your sword will be repaired. I must emphasize, however, it will take some time."

"How long would you say?" J.J. asked, as Susumu gingerly pressed the two halves of the blade together, holding them in place.

"Perhaps a few hours," Tristan replied. J.J. and Susumu traded looks of surprised delight at how quickly the sword could fix itself.

"Thanks for your help, Tristan," Susumu said. "I'll go out and buy some chemicals and steel wool, then I'll get to work removing the rust."

"Right. In the meantime… there's something I want to look into. I'm going to head back to that apartment from the other day and check a few things out," J.J. said. "I think Oliver – the Diemon – lives there."

Tristan gave J.J. a wary look from behind his helmet. "I do not believe that is a wise course of action, page," he warned him. "If Sir Agnar is still accompanying him…."

"This kid said that he didn't want to fight," J.J. pointed out. "And as long as I'm not threatening him, Agnar has no reason to attack me, right? His oath was to protect Oliver, not to kill me. Gwen proved that."

"You are playing a dangerous game, assuming that Agnar will uphold his oath to that degree," Tristan said.

"Have you known him to do anything else?" J.J. asked.

Tristan looked away with a soft sigh. "I am not sure I know him at all anymore," he replied softly, before looking back up at J.J. "Do what you must, page, but I implore you to exercise caution. Even if you had a weapon, you would still pose little threat to Agnar. If you see him-"

"I'll retreat, without hesitation," J.J. assured Tristan. "Besides, I'm not going there to pick a fight. I'm just trying to find some answers."

"Very well. I shall… continue to prepare," Tristan said slowly.

J.J. had turned to walk towards his motorcycle, but he paused at the way Tristan had phrased that sentence. There was something about the way he said it that sent a slight chill through J.J.'s body. Tristan had disappeared around the back of the garage before he could be pressed further, though, and J.J. decided to let it go. Tristan _wasn't_ the type to do anything stupid after all… right?

* * *

Even a day or so after J.J. had fought off the squad of Shards, the apartment that he had damaged was still in a state of moderate disrepair. The front door was broken, with pieces of glass littering the porch, and the interior still seemed to be in ruins. To his relief, however, he saw that there was already a crew of about four men working to help fix the place.

J.J. pulled up to a curb and dismounted from his bike, taking off his helmet before he began walking over to the apartment building. The workers were being directed by a middle-aged man with thinning red hair shot with streaks of grey, who was motioning for the men to move a couch aside so that he could get under it with a broom. As he saw J.J. walking towards them, he frowned and cautiously approached the writer as he stepped onto the front porch.

"Can I help you?" he asked warily, looking J.J. up and down. J.J. responded by flashing a smile and holding up his hands.

"Sorry, just… I was driving by, and I noticed that your apartment looked like it'd just been hit by a tornado. I've got some time to kill, and I was wondering if you wanted some help cleaning it up," J.J. replied.

The man gave him a skeptical look, and J.J. couldn't blame him for being wary – random acts of kindness were rare these days, and often had a hidden motivation. Not that J.J. _didn't_ have a hidden motive for wanting to help but, he admitted, but at least his intent was more benign than most. "We've already got plenty of help," the man said curtly.

"I see that," J.J. replied cheerfully. "But one more pair of hands couldn't hurt, right? If it makes you feel any better, if I were to try to steal something, those guys behind you could easily run me down and beat me into the pavement," he pointed out with a slight grin. He knew that his thin frame was rather nonthreatening, and he intended to use that to his advantage.

The man continued to stare at J.J. for a few more moments, before shrugging and saying, "Grab a pair of gloves, then. You can help sweep up the glass."

"Sure thing," J.J. chirruped, stepping into the house as one of the workers tossed him a spare pair of gloves.

He worked quietly for about half an hour, and as he did, he felt a sense of satisfaction in helping to clean. He had, after all, been partially responsible for the mess, so fixing the damage he did was only fair. It was also a mark of how much better shape he was in, as he was easily able to keep pace with the workers, helping to move furniture around and sweep up the rubble that was scattered across the poor man's living room without even winding up short of breath.

He passed by the broken picture a couple times, and when he felt that the man – who had introduced himself as Harry Frederick – had relaxed with J.J. around, he tapped the picture to draw Harry's attention to it.

"Your wife and kid?" J.J. asked conversationally.

"Mm? Oh, yeah," Harry replied, glancing at the picture. "That's Oliver and Brittany."

"You know… I think I saw your son at the charity function the other day," J.J. commented as he knelt down to pick up pieces of a broken vase. "He… didn't seem too pleased with the way the monster crisis is being handled in the city. Made a bit of a scene. Not that I'm chastising him, mind you," he added quickly as Harry turned to glance at him. "I admire someone who's willing to stand up for what they believe in like that."

"That… sounds like him, yeah," Harry sighed. "He's been like that for the last couple years."

"Did something happen?" J.J. asked slowly.

"Well… I suppose that it could be traced back to his mother," Harry said. "Especially her service in the military. She's been gone for a while…."

J.J. felt the blood rush out of his face as he realized Harry's implication, and he stammered quickly, "I'm… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up a painful memory…."

Harry blinked in confusion at J.J.'s reaction, and then his eyes widened, and he laughed, putting his hand on his forehead in embarrassment. "Oh, she's still alive, don't worry! No, she's still serving overseas. She's in engineering, and she's spent a lot of her time helping to rebuild towns in the aftermath of battles and skirmishes. She likes to think of it as helping to heal lives rather than take them."

"Ah," J.J. said, breathing a sigh of relief at having dodged a faux pas. "But Oliver seems to have rather pacifistic views for someone whose mother is in the military. Do they not get along or something?"

"Quite the opposite. He's always been something of a mama's boy," Harry chuckled, winking conspiratorially. "Though he'd kill me for saying as such. He's adored her ever since he was young, and for years he wanted to join the military and be just like her."

"I see. So… what changed, then, if you don't mind me asking? Does he resent the service for keeping his mother from him?" J.J. suggested.

"No, he's proud of her service, and he supports the military," Harry replied easily, pausing to dump a dustpan full of glass into a trashcan. "I think what really struck him, though, was when he became aware of how much of a toll her service was taking on her. She's… had nights where she's woken up screaming, covered in sweat, and at other times she'll just break down crying. She's gotten treatment for it, and she always takes her medication, so it's gotten better, but there are some days that are worse than others. Brittany's done her best to shield Oliver from the worst of it, but she can't protect him from everything, especially since he's gotten older."

"That's… unfortunate," J.J. said softly, unsure what else he could say.

"To say the least," Harry agreed, sighing as he leaned on his broom. "I think that's why Oliver is so opposed to violence. Even though his mother isn't technically in a combat role, she's still suffering from the same trauma as those that have. War can damage anyone who has to experience it, even those that aren't in pure combat roles. In Oliver's mind, the only perfect world is one where no one has to fight."

J.J. couldn't help but smile sadly. "I can see where he's coming from, then," he sighed, pushing himself up and dusting himself off. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up something painful."

"No worries. I've come to terms with it myself, so you're not bothering me. And it helped to pass the time," Harry chuckled. "I just didn't want you to think that my son was some loud-mouthed hooligan who was stirring up trouble for its own sake."

"Trust me, I never thought that," J.J. assured him. After all, the Black Seraph had given him a D-former, he thought to himself. He had to have genuine conviction in his beliefs, or else he wouldn't have been able to become a Diemon in the first place. And if he'd been assigned Agnar as protection to nurture his rise to Apotheosis, his beliefs must run to his core. It just made J.J. even more determined to keep him from reaching Apotheosis, since it was obvious that Oliver's heart was in the right place.

J.J. decided not to pursue the subject further, and he spent another ten minutes quietly picking up debris until his phone buzzed with a text message from Susumu. He looked it over before looking up at Harry with an sheepish grin while the man gazed at him curiously.

"I hate to do this, but something came up, and I need to head out," J.J. said apologetically.

"Oh, yeah, no worries," Harry replied, waving off his concerns. "You volunteered to help, so I can't keep you if you need to go somewhere else. Thanks for stopping by, though. I wish we had more people like you in this city."

"There's more than you might think," J.J. replied with a slight smile. "One good thing to come out of wars and crises is that they can also bring out the best in people, letting them show sides of themselves that might have otherwise remained hidden. I've seen that more than you might expect."

"Well… I'll grant you that," Harry said with a reluctant grin of his own. "Take care… sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"J.J.," he replied, hopping on his bike. "I'd also keep an eye on your son. He's a good kid. Just don't let him get drawn too deep into his own ideology."

"I'll bear that in mind," Harry replied slowly, giving J.J. a confused look. "You're kind of a weird one."

"So I've been told," J.J. chuckled, tossing him a wave as he drove off, heading back to the garage.

* * *

As J.J. pulled up to the garage, he saw that Tristan had already shed his armor and was wiping his face off with a towel while Susumu was setting up a stack of newspapers. He laid J.J.'s mangled sword on them, and as J.J. walked towards them, Susumu managed a slight smile.

"Well, the good news is that your sword does seem to have fused itself back together, like Tristan said it would," he said, gently holding up J.J.'s blade. "The bad news is that it's still completely rusted. We're going to have to take care of that."

"You mean I'm going to have to take care of that," J.J. said firmly. Tristan and Susumu both gave him looks of surprise, to which J.J. scowled in reply. "What? It's my weapon, and it's my fault that it's in this state. I should be the one to fix it. Just show me how to remove the rust and make sure that I'm not making things worse," he told Susumu.

J.J. walked past the pair towards the workbench, and he could feel Susumu and Tristan trading proud grins, which he ignored. Susumu limped over to his side, shaking up a can of chemicals as he did before spraying them up and down the length of the rusted blade.

"Alright, what you're going to do is take this steel wool and start scrubbing," Susumu explained, handing it to him. "This is some of the best wool that I can buy, so this'll be as easy as I can make it. Periodically, you're going to want to use more of the rust remover. Other than that, it's just a matter of effort and strength."

"Gotcha," J.J. said, taking the wool and pushing down hard on the blade. For the next fifteen minutes, he sloughed away the layers of rust and grime that were coating the blade, only pausing to add more rust remover to the mix. In less than five minutes, he was sweating, and his hands and arms were aching, but he continued to work with a deep frown on his face, ignoring the strain that he was putting on his body.

His efforts were slowly rewarded as the layers of rust began to chip off the blade, landing on the table in large flakes that Susumu periodically swept into a trashcan. After about fifteen minutes, J.J. was finally able to see the first glimmers of steel behind the layers of rust again.

"J.J.!" Susumu cried suddenly, grabbing his hand and pulling it back. J.J. blinked in surprise, then suddenly winced as he flexed his hand. He realized that he'd rubbed the steel wool through and had been scraping his palm raw on the rust without realizing it.

"Ah… well, good thing I'm up to date on my tetanus shots," J.J. commented drily, flexing his fingers as he grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe you should slow down," Susumu suggested. "Want me to take over?"

"No, I want to keep going," J.J. said, grabbing another piece of wool and resuming his furious scrubbing. "I've wondered for a while how much consciousness my sword has, and the fact that it's basically made of living steel confirms to me that I shouldn't treat it as a tool, but as something that's alive. I don't see it as broken right now – I see it as sick. That's why I'm working so hard, because I feel like I'm restoring a life rather than just fixing a hunk of metal."

Tristan and Susumu traded looks behind him as J.J. turned the blade over and began rubbing the other side, ignoring the burning in his arms as he whittled the rust away. By the time he finally took a break, he was panting and sore, but only a thin layer of rust remained on either side of his sword. He reached down and clicked it down into its quill form, so he could speak with it, and he opened his diary to a blank page. "Are you alright, partner?" he asked the quill.

The pen hesitantly pushed itself up and began to jerkily skate across the page, its movements stiff and ragged, and the words it left on the page were badly written and slightly misspelled: _Tha-nk ou._

"You don't have to thank me," J.J. said, reaching out to gently grasp the pen and still its movements. "Settle down. Don't try to move too fast. We still have work to do. I don't need you breaking a second time."

Despite him trying to hold it still, the quill wriggled out of his grasp and resumed writing on the page beneath it. _Noo tme fr that. Wriite th-e Dimons name._

J.J. hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at Tristan, who shrugged. "Your quill is correct," he said. "If Sir Agnar believes that Oliver may soon reach Apotheosis, we must seek them out quickly. Do as it says."

J.J. chewed on the inside of his cheek, but then he remembered the numerous times that he'd pushed himself to keep fighting despite being at less than perfect health. He could hardly admonish others for doing the same. Reluctantly, he picked up the quill and wrote across the top of another blank page, "Rust Monster."

The quill seized up and began to scribble rapidly across the rest of the page, filling in the gaps detailing the Diemon's stats. Though the words were barely legible, he was able to make out that while it had high defense, it wasn't very strong – it was only annoying because of its corrosion abilities. In fact, it seemed able to wear through any metal, even those normally resistant to rust or tarnish.

"I suppose that means you should stay out of the fight," J.J. commented to Tristan as he read the description of that ability while his quill continued writing. Tristan, however, scowled at him before shaking his head.

"Refrain from jesting, page. It is in poor taste," Tristan growled. "You would have enough of a struggle combating this foe even without Sir Agnar's presence. You shall require my assistance in this battle."

J.J. glanced over at Tristan warily, scowling as he slowly asked, "You're not going to try and duel him to the death now, are you?"

Tristan looked away, his eyes flickering as he considered while J.J.'s heart began to pound. Finally, however, he said slowly, "…No. As he is guarding a charge, I cannot rightfully challenge him to a duel, as he has other duties to attend to. Thus, any conflict between us would be towards the fulfillment or opposition of his present duty, namely the protection of his ward."

"I thought blood feuds took precedence over that sort of thing," J.J. said, tilting his head curiously.

"Normally, yes, but… if I choose not to invoke it, Sir Agnar will simply continue to follow his oath to protect Oliver, and no honor would be lost on either side. No, I shall merely engage him for the sake of distracting him while you save Oliver," Tristan said. Despite that, J.J. could practically hear him grinding his teeth in frustration. J.J. wasn't sure how much longer he could keep convincing Tristan to put off his duel.

His quill suddenly stopped writing, and as soon as it did, the diary began vibrating on the table. J.J. put his hand on the book to keep it from falling off the workbench, and he grimaced as he looked up at Tristan and Susumu.

"I suppose you have a battle to get to, then," Susumu remarked. "If he's supposedly that close to Apotheosis, you don't have time to keep cleaning your sword.

"Yeah… but I'm not sure how I'm going to fight this one," J.J. admitted, frowning down at the half-rusted quill. "I'm not comfortable bringing a dull sword to a fight, particularly one that could break at any moment. Plus, even if it was completely rust-free and repaired, the rust monster's abilities can just ruin my weapons again."

"Perhaps I should engage the Diemon myself," Tristan suggested. "Azuron is far stronger than the alchemical steel of your own weapon."

"Yeah, but the diary said that Oliver can chew through just about any metal, which suggests to me that your armor would be resistant to him, but not impervious. Besides, do you really think you can fight Agnar and a Diemon at the same time?" J.J. pointed out. "I barely lasted a few seconds when we did that, and while you're a better fighter than I am, I still wouldn't press my luck."

"Then what do you propose?" Tristan replied.

J.J. bit his lower lip before saying softly, "I suppose I'll just have to try fighting barehanded." Of course, he was fully aware of how well that was likely to go. While he was now a decent swordsman, he barely knew anything about unarmed combat. He struggled against a squad of Shards, and he'd never tried fighting a Diemon without a weapon before. Worse, the rust monster had good defense, so he doubted that he was likely to do much damage.

"That… is not a wise solution, page," Tristan chided him, confirming J.J.'s own worries.

"Yeah, but maybe I can keep Oliver off of you long enough for you to beat Agnar, and then while he's distracted…." J.J. suggested slowly.

"But we do not know when our quarry will achieve Apotheosis," Tristan countered. "And I am unsure if I can best Sir Agnar before that occurs."

J.J. looked down at the diary, the wheels in his mind spinning rapidly but going nowhere. As he struggled to find a solution, his quill perked up again and weakly nudged itself to a blank page, where it scrawled a new message on the blank paper.

 _Thers anotherrr wvay._

J.J. looked down at the quill as it slowly outlined a plan, its tip leaving a line of rust in every blot of ink, but as it explained its idea, J.J. slowly began to grin.

"That… might be perfect, actually," J.J. said. "Thanks for pointing that out."

 _Its oly bcase you diid enugh to alow it,_ the quill replied.

"Alright. In the meantime, no more wearing yourself out. Get some rest," J.J. said. The quill fell flat on the table, as if exhausted, and he smiled to himself as he picked up his pen and gently tucked it under the bindings of his dairy. He then looked up at Tristan with a nod. "Ready to head out?"

"Quite," Tristan said, reaching into his jeans for his shield, while J.J. flipped his diary open to his stats page and held it up to his left cheek. Tristan briefly held his badge to his chest before holding it out in front of him. Susumu, seeing this, took a few steps back.

"Henshin!" the two men shouted at the same time, and their Drivers appeared around their waists almost simultaneously. J.J. snapped his book shut and slotted it into his Driver while Tristan did the same with his shield, and both spun their respective D-formers.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"**

 **"Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"**

As the Drivers cried into the air, J.J.'s Driver began sounding off with a blare of trumpets while Tristan's emitted a raucous clashing of cymbals. An amber die surrounded J.J. while a steel-blue crystal enveloped Tristan, and they began spinning at the same time, encasing J.J. in his brown leather armor and Tristan in his blue full-plate. When the spinning stopped, the two men traded nods with each other and headed for their bikes.

"Looks like there's something going on around Old Marville. You might want to start there," Susumu suggested, looking up from the TV he'd had on.

"Makes sense, since that's his home," J.J. said, nodding to Susumu in thanks. Tristan had already started up his bike, and J.J. followed suit, the two warriors heading off while Susumu waved behind them.

As they followed the winding roads towards the poorer district of Marville, J.J. shouted over the roar of the engines, "Did you have an idea about how you wanted to do this?"

Tristan didn't say anything for a few moments, before yelling back, "I shall attempt something that I have yet to try. It should provide enough of a spectacle that Sir Agnar should be sufficiently distracted as to not turn his attention upon you. When we near our destination, inform me and allow me to… spearhead our assault."

J.J. gave Tristan a curious look, but the knight turned mysteriously quiet. J.J. shook his head, deciding not to press it. Tristan had been in an odd mood for the past several days. From the sudden insistence on training both himself and J.J. to the somewhat short attitude, J.J. couldn't help but start to grow worried. He was beginning to suspect that the feud he had declared with Agnar was starting to affect his judgment.

They took the turn on the road for Old Marville, and J.J. pushed his concerns out of his mind. One thing at a time, he told himself sternly. His diary began to vibrate more rapidly on his dashboard, and as he looked up, he saw Agnar and Oliver in his Diemon form standing together at the end of a long, narrow street. In front of them were a trio of thugs cowering in fear of Oliver, who was advancing on them. At their feet lay rusted handgun and knives that they had clearly tried to use on Oliver, with the expected results. Oliver, however, seemed to be standing over them without attacking them, and from this angle, he almost seemed to be scolding them, though J.J. couldn't be sure.

The pair turned, apparently hearing the roaring of the engines, and Oliver held his hands up in apparent surrender. Despite this, shapes began to emerge from near the buildings lining the streets. Shards began milling about in the street, their claws open and ready to tear the two Riders apart in defense of the nearest source of an active D-former – namely, Oliver.

J.J. looked over at Tristan, who caught J.J.'s gaze and nodded. He revved his engine loudly as he pressed the stallion icon on his belt. His shield emitted a loud neighing, and from Tristan's shield emerged a long lance made of Azuron, which hovered in front of Tristan for a moment before he grabbed it. He couched the lanced under his armpit, gripping the handlebars with his other hand, and held his shield in a punch-grip over his knuckles, protecting him while still allowing him to control the bike. He rested the lance over the edge of his bike, aiming it directly at the Shards now filling the streets.

With the road clear of traffic, he was able to steer his bike with one hand without issue, weaving it back and forth while he subtly adjusted his lance to strike the Shards one at a time. The heavy lance impaled the Shards almost effortlessly, each one being reduced to dust as soon as the point of the spear was thrust through them. Tristan's arm shuddered slightly with each hit, but he was able to keep control of his bike despite the repeated attacks and the vibrations running through his body, which amazed J.J., and he pulled up short to watch. In moments, Tristan had easily destroyed a half dozen Shards before straightening his bike out and changing targets.

"Sir Agnar!" Tristan bellowed furiously, and both Agnar and Oliver stared at Tristan as he sped towards them. J.J. likewise watched in awe as Tristan rode down the red-armored knight, revving his engine to gain even more speed. Agnar moved to step out of the way at the last second, but Tristan had clearly anticipated this. He pulled his lance from his bike and instead stabbed it towards Agnar. The attack struck the draconic knight dead in the chest, and Agnar screamed in pain as he was sent flying a good forty yards before crashing unceremoniously to the pavement, groaning out from the impact of the strike. He slowly began to push himself up, and J.J. was astounded that initial attack hadn't skewered him completely.

"Please, don't!" Oliver cried, rushing towards Tristan, but Agnar threw a hand up to stop the Diemon as he drew near. He coughed as he pushed himself up slowly, grunting as he held his chest, while Tristan brought his bike to a halt and dismounted, resting the butt of his lance on the pavement as he stared at Agnar. J.J. could practically feel the fury radiating from the blue knight.

"I suppose I must consider myself fortunate," Agnar grunted, brushing off his armor. "Had your lance been couched, you may well have slain me."

"Would that you were less fortunate, then," Tristan growled, pressing the stallion on his shield again, and his lance disappeared in a flash of blue light. "Though that would not have satisfied me."

"I suppose it would not, no. Duels to settle blood feuds are matters of honor, not simple killing. Pray, then, have you come to exact vengeance?" Agnar asked, holding out his hand. There was a flash of brilliant red fire, and his greatsword appeared in his palm. He slowly lowered the sword, adding, "Or have you come to parley?"

"I have come to ensure that the Black Seraph's machinations do not come to pass," Tristan replied coldly. "Nor would I duel you under these circumstances, as I find myself at a disadvantage, given the abilities of your ward."

"You dare accuse me of dishonor?" Agnar growled, his voice turning dangerously soft. "Were we to duel, do you truly believe I would rely upon interference merely to gain an advantage?"

"No, it is not your honor that I question. However, your charge has already proven his willingness to interfere in a duel," Tristan replied. "Page's damaged weapon is testament enough to that."

"A peasant is not afforded the same honor as a knight, Sir Tristan," Agnar replied simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "But I must concede, I cannot give my assurances that he would not act of his own volition and attempt to interfere. What do you propose, then? Given that you do not wish to invoke a duel, I cannot simply allow you to engage my charge until he has achieved Apotheosis."

"No, nor would I expect you do," Tristan replied, putting his hand on the bull icon on his shield, which let out a bellow as his mace emerged from his shield while his lance disappeared. "Thus… let us instead see if our companions can resolve their dispute before we can interfere, shall we?"

Agnar chuckled darkly, resting his claymore on one of his shoulders. "I see. Not a duel, but a battle, then? Very well. Have at you!" he shouted, bringing his claymore up above his head and cleaving downward. Tristan brought his shield up, blocking the attack, before he stepped in to bash Agnar with the rim of his shield. Agnar, however, stepped back before he could do so, and the two squared off and began to circle each other.

"No… no, dammit, stop!" Oliver cried, trying to run towards them. "I don't want anyone else getting hurt!"

"Oliver!" J.J. shouted, having dismounted and run over. He reached out and put his hand on the Diemon's chitinous shoulder, drawing his attention from the fight. Oliver looked at him in fright, but J.J. held up his other hand, showing that he was unarmed and just wanted to talk.

"Please! Stop them!" Oliver pleaded, his large compound eyes wide with desperation. "If they fight here, they're just going to do more damage! I don't… I don't want this city to suffer any more than it already has!"

J.J. sighed, taking his hand off the Diemon's shoulder, before saying softly, "You really don't get it, do you? Look… to be perfectly honest, I agree with you." Oliver turned towards him, his eyes widening as J.J. folded his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving Oliver's. "I'd love nothing more than to put my sword down and never have to pick it up again. I hate fighting. I hate the fact that I hurt people who just want to make their own lives better. Even when they have completely selfish motives, I very rarely relish the thought of having to fight them. I've had more than a few nights where I've woken up sweating and panting from the nightmares."

"Exactly! So just stop!" Oliver insisted.

J.J. shook his head as he smiled sadly behind his helmet. "Unfortunately, I can't do that. In a perfect world, yes, there'd be no need for weapons or violence because everyone would get along. But we don't live in a perfect world." J.J. looked over Oliver's shoulder, watching Agnar, who was slashing viciously at his opponent while Tristan backpedaled, blocking every attack with subtle shifts of his left arm, conserving as much energy as he could.

"I fight because there are monsters in this city, Oliver," J.J. explained, turning his attention back to the Diemon. "And I don't mean you, despite your appearance. You're one of the people I believe is worth saving. But to save you, I have no choice but to fight. I've tried reasoning with the monsters, but they don't listen. And when they don't listen, the only other thing I can do to make them stand down is to force them."

"I don't buy that!" Oliver snapped. "There's always another option!"

"You're right," J.J. agreed softly. "The alternative is far worse. If I don't, the monsters will take over this city, and everyone will suffer. There are times when inaction and pacifism can cause far more damage than warfare." His thoughts turned briefly to how he had hesitated with Kelsie, and he quickly swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He took a moment to compose himself, then back to Oliver. "Bottom line is this, Oliver: I agree with your ideal, but not your methods. And if you keep using that power the Black Seraph gave you, you're going to hurt more people than you realize. If you really don't believe in violence, then please listen to me. Hand over your D-former, and I promise I'll do everything I can to protect this city."

"…But you'll keep fighting? And the city will keep suffering as you do?" Oliver asked slowly.

"I'm going to do my best to avoid it. But it might, yes," J.J. admitted honestly.

Oliver shook his head defiantly. "Then I can't stop. Besides, you can't fight without a sword, can you?" he realized. "That's why you're trying to talk me down! Your sword is still damaged, isn't it? That just means this power is working! So all I have to do is keep making weapons unusable, and peace will eventually be restored to this city!"

J.J. smiled sadly as he pulled his diary from his belt. "I was afraid you might say that," he said softly, pulling his quill from his book. He clicked it out into its sword form as he replaced his diary, and the metal groaned loudly as it twisted and extended to assume its elegant saber form. Though it was in much better shape, there were still obvious patches of rust staining the blade, and the edge seemed dull. It was clear that the sword hadn't been fully restored, and Oliver realized that immediately.

"A rusted blade isn't going to do anything to me," Oliver commented, almost seeming a touch cocky as J.J. brandished the weapon. "And it looks like if it takes any more damage, it's going to fall apart. I'd hate to destroy such a nice sword."

"You're not wrong, but there're two flaws in your assumption that I can't beat you with this. One – my weapon doesn't necessarily have to be a sword. And two – it doesn't have to be metal. At least… not anymore."

J.J. put his fingers on his red and blue die, and he gave them a quick spin as his Driver cried, **"Reroll! Multiclass: Ranger!"** This was followed by the long peal of a hunting horn as a red and blue die appeared around him, before coalescing into a single emerald-green die that began to spin around him quickly. He felt his armor changing, though not as drastically as some of his other Classes. When the spinning stopped, J.J. was wearing an all-new suit of armor.

The main component of his armor, like his base class, was a leather-like material, but the brown jerkin-like garment had been abandoned for a closed forest green vest with stylized brown stitching down his sternum. His upper arms and shoulders were "bare," protected only by his black bodysuit, but long green leather gloves protected his hands and forearms. The green leather extended below his belt to end in a short kilt-like leather skirt that protected his thighs, under which his black undersuit could be seen. His shins, calves, and feet were also encased by deep green boots that extended almost to his kneecaps. Around his shoulders and neck, he wore a short cloak that extended to the backs of his thighs, though it didn't get in the way of his arms and he could still freely move. Most of his helmet was also green, save for the shield-shaped black faceplate, and the trapezoids that made up his "eyeholes" had become an emerald crystalline material, with feathers embossed next to his ears.

J.J. looked down and smiled faintly to himself as he saw his sword. The transformation had turned it into a four-foot long shortbow. More importantly, though, was the fact that there was no sign of rust on it. The bow was constructed from dark wood wrapped in thin tendrils of green ivy, and the string was a living vine. Obviously, since it was no longer metal, rust was no longer an issue. In fact, he could see flakes of rust on the ground where they had slid off the wood like scabs, littering the pavement near his feet.

He looked up at Oliver, who was staring at him, stunned. "That… how?!" he cried, motioning to his undamaged bow.

J.J. sighed sadly. "There's one other thing you need to understand about the nature of warfare – people will always find new ways to fight. If one weapon isn't working, they'll choose another one. If there's no weapon available, they'll use their fists. Remove their limbs, and they'll try to bite your ankles."

"Why?! Why can't we just have peace?!" Oliver shouted.

"Peace doesn't come without a struggle, Oliver," J.J. said, unable to keep the regret from his voice. "So long as it's a worthy cause, like protecting others, then there's nothing wrong with fighting. And that's why I'm going to have to fight you now, unless you're willing to just give up your D-former," J.J. suggested. "If you're really that opposed to fighting, then please, give it up without us having to resort to violence."

Behind him, he heard a particularly loud bang of steel, and Agnar pushed Tristan back, pointing his finger at Oliver. "Oliver, while I despise agreeing with this _peasant_ , what he says has some merit." Tristan brought his mace back to slam it down on Agnar's blade again, but J.J. held up a hand to stop him. "He shall not yield, and there are times when one must fight for their ideals. Thankfully, in your case, your goal is simple: You simply must dispatch him, and then your path to peace will be open."

Oliver hesitated, glancing over at Tristan, before asking, "What about him?"

"I shall ensure that Sir Tristan does not interfere, and when you prevail, I am certain we can convince him to stand down as well. Do not waver in your conviction," Agnar added. He returned his attention to Tristan and swung his sword again. Tristan barely managed to raise his shield in time to deflect it away as the two engaged each other again.

Oliver looked down, clenching his insectoid hands, before reluctantly looking up. "If… if what you're saying is true, then I don't have any choice, do I? In that case, I can't back down either." He hesitantly raised his fists, and even though his face was completely alien, J.J. swore he saw a look of resolve in his eyes. "I can't let you stop me here. I'm going to end the fighting in this city my own way, even if I have to fight you to do it."

J.J. shook his head as he held out his left hand. A seed appeared in his palm, and a second later it split open, rapidly growing into an arrow with a sharpened wooden point and fletched with leaves instead of feathers. He nocked the arrow in the vine and slowly pulled it back to his shoulder as he said reluctantly, "I'm sorry it's come to this. Alea iacta est."

As soon as he finished speaking, he loosed the arrow, which flew towards Oliver faster than the human eye could follow. Oliver just barely managed to duck out of the way, but the arrow still scraped his chitinous shell, leaving along scratch mark along his arm, before dissolving harmlessly into leaves before hitting the building behind the Diemon. Oliver winced and inspected the wound, only relaxing when he saw that it wasn't bleeding. He looked up with J.J., clearly terrified.

"How?" he asked softly. "That's a wooden weapon! It shouldn't be able to harm me!"

J.J. smiled grimly as he held out his hand and another seed popped into his hand. He was truly grateful that his quill had taken the time to explain his newest form while it had the chance.

* * *

 _Yu hve emugh sttat ponts for a new frm,_ the quill had explained, and as J.J., Tristan, and Susumu watched, it slowly scratched out the specifications of the Ranger Class on a blank page of his diary. Drawing from Irene's dryad as its base, it was a blend of Warrior and Thief Classes, lacking the power of the former and the speed of the latter, but making up for it by giving him a specialized ranged form. And more importantly, thanks to its source, its powers were completely organic, meaning it was totally unaffected by Oliver's rusting abilities. Even if Oliver damaged his weapon in this form, the bow would simply repair itself, far more rapidly than it could in its metallic state.

"Glad to know that we never have to worry about you getting seriously damaged again," J.J. grinned, picking up his diary. "If that's all it takes, let me transform and fix you really quick."

 _No!_ his quill protested quickly. _If Im fxed and he ses tat, he wil jst rust me agin. I dontt want tht. It hurts,_ his quill pleaded. _Surprse him._

"I… suppose we can, sure," J.J. said curiously. He still thought it would be easier to just heal his quill, but he figured that in its damaged state, it might also be slightly delirious, since he didn't see why he couldn't just keep his quill hidden until he needed it. He shrugged, figuring he would just treat the quill like a sick patient and humor it.

"While this is fortuitous, I also must express my concern about this combat style," Tristan piped up. "You have become a fair duelist, page, but how much experience do you have with archery?"

"None whatsoever. Never held a bow in my life," J.J. replied.

"Then this style may well prove ineffective for you," Tristan replied grimly. "Archers require years of training before they are considered proficient. We do not have the time required to train you to use a bow."

"Maybe I have a hidden talent for it?" J.J. suggested weakly.

"You do not, page, if your other combat abilities are any indication," Tristan replied bluntly. "While you do learn quickly, you do not have a natural aptitude for weaponry, I am afraid."

"Then what's the alternative?" J.J. countered. "If I use any other weapon, Oliver will just destroy it."

His quill twitched again, and J.J. gently helped it up, until it was scratching its way across the page again. _I cn hlp you,_ it explained. _Let me gide you. Wen you ar shootng, let me tke contrl. Do you trst me?_

J.J. smiled faintly at his pen, nodding down to it. "Yeah, I trust you. I'll leave it in your hands then… partner."

The quill responded with a little wiggle that J.J. interpreted as it being pleased with his response.

* * *

As J.J. pulled the arrow back, he relaxed his hands and shoulders, relying only on the muscles needed to draw the bowstring. His bow, meanwhile, self-corrected his stance so that even in his amateurish hands, the arrow would fly wherever pointing. Apparently, his sword had always had some ability to move on its own even in its weapon form. While it couldn't hover freely in the air the way his quill did – which was why he also wouldn't be able to throw his sword and expect it to come back to him – it did retain some motion control. Until now, it had remained still when he was fighting because it didn't want to interfere. However, he was now placing his trust entirely in his weapon, and to his delight, it was answering his expectations beautifully.

J.J. relaxed his fingers and released the arrow, and the bolt sang through the air before striking Oliver square in the chest, releasing a shower of sparks. The Diemon let out a cry of pain as he stumbled backwards, clutching his chest in pain.

"Why does this hurt?!" he shouted in frustration. "If those arrows are just wood, they shouldn't even do any damage!"

J.J. would have been inclined to agree, but there were a few reasons why the arrows were effective. For one, his bow was only usable thanks to his suit's enhanced strength. The string was so taut and the wood of his bow so hard that it would have been impossible for a normal human to even draw it. As a result, his arrows hit with the force of a ballista bolt.

The second reason why he could do so much damage to Oliver was due to the unique properties of the arrows he was using. Although they were completely organic and had wooden tips, the wood was so dense that it was more than adequate as a substitute for metal. Thanks to the dryad's powers over vegetation, he could shape his bow and arrows to be as hard or soft as he wished, though unlike the powers Irene's Diemon form had, he couldn't control all plant life. That was fine with J.J., though, as this was all he needed anyways.

Oliver slowly recovered as he raised his head and let out a frustrated growl before charging at J.J., intending to close the distance before he could shoot again. J.J. quickly backpedaled away from Oliver, trying to maintain the gap. While Ranger Class wasn't nearly as fast as Thief Class, it was still quick enough that he could easily keep pace with Oliver, and that gave him time to draw another arrow. This time, he fired it at the Diemon's leg. The arrow pierced his shin, and Oliver let out a scream of pain, stumbling to the ground. J.J. stopped retreating, drawing another arrow back to continue his attack.

"Can we stop?" J.J. asked softly, aiming at Oliver's head. "I'd really rather not have to keep fighting you."

Oliver raised his head and opened his mouth. J.J. was caught off-guard as a stream of acid sprayed from his throat with the force of a fire hose. In response, J.J. leaped backwards, floating through the air away from the attack. He noticed that while he didn't have as much speed as when he was in Thief Class, the added strength from Warrior Class meant that his jumping abilities had improved drastically.

From his spot in the air, he saw that Oliver's attack was corroding everything metal in the area, swiftly reducing a bike rack to a slab of melted steel. Moments later, J.J.'s feet hit the ground and he jumped again before Oliver could target him. His leap this time was almost vertical, and he landed lightly on the roof of a nearby apartment building. From this vantage point, he drew another arrow and loosed it at Oliver's head. Oliver closed his mouth and dodged out of the way. While the arrow had missed, it also stopped Oliver's attack.

J.J. took a moment to look past Oliver and observe Tristan and Agnar's fight. Tristan had his back to Oliver and J.J., deflecting each of Agnar's powerful blows while the red knight tried to force his way past him. They'd been fighting for some time now, and J.J. was glad to see that Tristan's endurance training seemed to be paying off, as he was still holding his ground. He knocked two slashes to the side before stepping into Agnar's range and swinging his mace. The short weapon arced towards Agnar's face, but the draconic knight stepped back and brought his sword up to counter a follow-up. Agnar reacted in kind, bringing his shield up. The two knights paused, seeing their opposite taking a defensive stance, and then they mutually seemed to agree to reset and try a different tactic with each other. The exchange only lasted a few seconds, but there were so many moves in that short span that J.J. could barely follow it. Once again, he wondered how he would ever reach the level that those two were on.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to Oliver in time to see the Diemon scurry over to a sewer grate. He swore to himself as Oliver's antenna brushed the grate, rusting the iron, and a few seconds later, he kicked it in, disappearing into the sewers. J.J. swore under his breath, trying to figure out how he could track Oliver, when he realized that he was still able to see him somewhat. He appeared as a shadowy grey shape moving under the pavement of the city, and while his form was indistinct, J.J. could still see him. J.J. remained still, watching Oliver intently to see if he was going to retreat or try something else.

Oliver likewise seemed to be hesitating and planning out his next move. He finally decided to travel closer to J.J., heading towards a manhole cover that was nearby, before his form began to ascend as he climbed the ladder. J.J. immediately figured out what he was trying to do, and he decided to counter the ambush that Oliver was planning.

J.J. put his fingers on the red and blue D-formers again and gave them a quick spin. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and J.J. was briefly surrounded by a deep green crystal that coalesced around him, focusing itself into his palm. Four dark green seeds appeared in his hand, quickly growing into thorny, verdant arrows with an unearthly green glow to them. J.J. nocked them all at the same time and pulled them back slowly, aiming at the manhole cover that Oliver was going to emerge from. Since J.J. was expecting it, he wasn't surprised in the slightest when the cover exploded upwards and Oliver leaped into the air.

For a moment, time seemed to slow down. J.J. clearly saw Oliver's mouth opening as he ascended to eye level, but his sneer of triumph devolved into a look of horror as he realized J.J. was waiting for him. J.J. stared at him grimly from behind his bow as his grip loosened on the arrows and the quartet of bolts flew towards the Diemon. All four arrows struck him dead in the chest, cracking his carapace, and Oliver let out a scream of pain as he fell to the pavement.

J.J. jumped off the building, landing lightly on the ground moments after Oliver slammed into it. He could hear the young man groaning, and J.J. pulled his diary off his belt, flipping it open to the rust monster's stat page as he reverted to his Adventurer Class. He watched the Diemon's health bar drop to zero, and he snapped his book shut as he watched glowing reddish-orange lines spread across Oliver's body. His Diemon form was soon consumed by the cracks spiderwebbing across his body, and moments later it exploded into a shower of fractals, leaving Oliver lying on the pavement, dazed and disoriented. His D-former and stat sheet were a few feet away from him, just out of reach.

J.J. moved to help him, but he paused as a loud metal clanging caught his attention. He looked up in time to see Agnar body-check Tristan out of the way. The blue knight made no attempt to stop Agnar, and J.J. was relieved to see that while he was panting heavily, he didn't seem on the verge of collapse for a change. J.J. gripped his sword, charging forward to meet Agnar head-on, but to his surprise, Agnar simply jumped over him. Caught off-guard he was unable to turn in time as Agnar grabbed the glowing D-former. He gazed at it with his shoulders slumped in disappointment as he realized Oliver hadn't reached Apotheosis. He slowly looked down at Oliver with burning contempt.

"Pathetic. You had such promise," Agnar spat at him. "Did you really not possess the conviction to see your ideals come to fruition? You should have easily achieved Apotheosis."

"Yeah… you can blame yourself for that, Agnar," J.J. piped up. The red knight slowly turned to glare at him as J.J. shrugged. "The D-formers develop as people follow the role they want, right? If Oliver wanted to end the fighting in this city, you shouldn't have encouraged him to fight."

Agnar slowly raised his head, and J.J. could practically feel his anger radiating off of him. "Then your speech about needing to fight for peace was just a falsehood…?"

"Oh, no, I completely believe that," J.J. shrugged. "But not everyone does. I imagine it was making Oliver here sick, having to compromise his beliefs by fighting. There _are_ true pacifists in this world. The second you encouraged to go for me and not my weapon was when he betrayed the intentions of his D-former. He was never going to achieve Apotheosis, even if he beat me." He smirked behind his mask as he saw Agnar's hand shaking with anger.

"You… made it impossible… to fulfill my oath to my master… to bring him completed jewels," Agnar growled furiously. J.J. couldn't help but feel a bit smug as the knight advanced on him.

"There's more than one way to win a fight, Agnar," J.J. pointed out, gripping his sword as he prepared for Agnar to unload on him. Behind Agnar, he could see Tristan rushing over to help.

Agnar let out a scream of rage as he raised his claymore above his head, about to swing it down on J.J., while J.J. prepared to dodge out of the way. Suddenly, to everyone's surprise, Oliver picked himself up and threw himself at Agnar. The knight was caught off-guard by the sudden rush, and he changed his target instinctively, slashing at Oliver before J.J. or Tristan had time to react. The heavy blade slashed the young man across the chest, sending him sprawling with a long gash across his torso.

The three warriors were all left momentarily stunned. J.J. was the first to move, darting over to Oliver's prone form as the young man coughed and wheezed. He immediately put his hands over the bleeding gash while Agnar looked down at his sword in shock. It was clear to all three fighters that his slash had been pure reflex, that he hadn't meant to attack Oliver. Tristan hurried over as well, helping to put his hands over Oliver's chest to stem the flow of blood. The knight turned and shouted at Agnar, "Damn you, sir! Help us!"

"No," Agnar said, his voice was shaking slightly. He looked down at the jewel in his hand, taking a deep breath as he continued, "I swore an oath to _our_ people. The lives of these peasants are irrelevant in the face of restoring Almencia." From his tone of voice, however, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He turned towards Tristan and added, "I am disappointed in you, Sir Tristan. I have shown a great deal of leniency towards your blood feud. No longer. Should you continue to postpone the duel you set, I must question your honor. Do not swear oaths you cannot fulfill."

"Bastard!" Tristan shouted at him, but Agnar simply picked up the fallen stats sheet and tore it in half before walking off. J.J., for his part, was only dimly aware of all of this. He was more focused on keeping his hands on Oliver's chest to stem the flow of blood. He could hear sirens in the distance, coming closer with each passing second, though each second felt like an hour.

"Stay with me, Oliver," J.J. said, his voice hoarse and his throat dry. He didn't want to have to explain another death to someone else's parents. Thankfully, the gash seemed to have been a glancing blow. Agnar must have instinctively held back despite his muscle memory.

Oliver coughed and opened his eyes, grinning up at J.J. "See?" he gasped out. "I told you… I could stop… the fighting… myself…."

"Yeah… you did," J.J. nodded briefly, smiling despite himself. "Now stop talking or you're gonna open this wound up even more."

To his relief, moments later an ambulance pulled up, and two paramedics jumped out of the back, rushing over to the wounded boy. The woman who got there first gently pushed J.J. aside and grimly inspected the wound.

"It doesn't look too deep, and I don't think any vital organs were hit. We need to get him into surgery quickly, though," she said to her partner, who was already hurrying over with a stretcher. She paused to nod to J.J. and Tristan, adding, "Good job staunching the wound. He should be alright as long as we hurry."

"Good," J.J. sighed with relief. "I'd like to come if-"

"Page," Tristan said quietly. "We have completed our mission here. Allow the healers to do theirs."

"…Right," J.J. agreed reluctantly. "I'll be by later to check up on him," he added to the paramedic, who nodded. As they hauled Oliver off in a stretcher, J.J. slowly walked away, looking down at the blood on his gloves in disgust.

"Oliver's right about one thing. We need to end this crisis before things get worse," he growled.

"Agreed," Tristan said coldly, looking up at the sky with his arms folded. "Questioning my honor, dare he…?"

Something about Tristan's tone made J.J.'s ears perk up, and he glanced over at his partner warily. "Tristan…?" he asked slowly.

"Merely contemplating, page," Tristan replied shortly. "Let us depart. We deserve some rest."

J.J. quirked his mouth, but didn't argue. Still, something in Tristan's tone had him worried, he mused, as he watched the knight walk away. Once again, he wondered how much longer Tristan was going to be able to endure Agnar's insults… and what would happen if he finally lost his cool.

* * *

The next day, J.J. walked into the hospital and asked the receptionist where he could find Oliver. Once he got the room number, he quietly slipped into an empty room and transformed, then hurried to the specific room before he was swarmed by people who recognized him. He saw that the door was cracked, and he lightly rapped on it before peeking inside. Oliver was laying in bed, hooked up to a few machines, with his father sitting by his side. Both looked up, and Harry smiled and beckoned him inside. J.J. quietly shut the door behind him as Oliver struggled to sit up, only to be stopped by his father putting a hand on his shoulder. J.J. noticed that the boy's torso was completely wrapped in bandages and his skin was slightly pale, but otherwise he didn't seem too bad.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, standing with his hands behind his back.

"Everything hurts, I needed several stitches, and I'm going to have a scar for the rest of my life, but… they say I should be out of here in a couple weeks," Oliver explained.

"Good," J.J. said, trying to keep himself from sagging in relief. "I've gotta say, that was very brave of you… and also incredibly stupid," he added, chastising Oliver. "Seriously, I can take a couple hits from that guy. There was no reason for you to get in the way."

"I know… but my body moved on its own," Oliver said meekly. J.J. sighed, folding his arms and looking away.

"Well… I can't say that I haven't done the same thing once or twice. And I'm glad to see that you'll recover at least. I know people who… haven't," he said, swallowing hard for a moment before looking back at Oliver, who seemed lost in thought. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to thank you," Oliver said. "And to apologize. I've always had this belief that there's no 'right' side in a war, that nothing is black and white and that there are only conquerors and victims caught in the crossfire. But you went out of your way to save my life, even after I'd attacked you, and it reminded me that there are also people who take up arms to help others. It's why my mother joined the service, even though she dislikes holding a rifle unless she has to. I… think I'd forgotten that."

"There's a saying – hate the war, love the soldier," J.J. said. "I agree, some wars are fought for terrible reasons – greed and bloodlust especially come to mind. But there are also those that fight to protect, and that's the kind of warrior I try to be. I don't always succeed, but it's what I aspire to."

"Yeah, and I see that now. But again, I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner," Oliver said. "I hope I can make it up to you somehow."

"You want to make it up to me? Get better," J.J. said, smiling faintly.

"I'll do that," Oliver grinned up at him. "Thanks again."

J.J. nodded, glancing up at Harry and adding, "You've got a good son. Keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid."

"I tried to raise him right," Harry shrugged. "I can't help it if he's an idiot sometimes. Thank you for stopping by, though. It means a lot."

"It was good for my peace of mind, too," J.J. chuckled, tossing him a wave. "But in the meantime, I have to get back."

"Right, we understand," Harry said. "Oh, and one more thing before you go?"

"What is it?" J.J. asked easily, his hand on the door.

"Thanks again for helping clean up the apartment the other day," Harry said casually.

J.J. froze and slowly turned to look at Harry, who was grinning at him. "You might want to disguise your voice if you're trying to hide your identity," Harry said smugly. "It's a bit distorted, but I thought I recognized it."

"Bit late for that now, isn't it?" J.J. said, grinning sheepishly from behind his helmet. Harry burst out laughing as J.J. walked out the door, leaving Oliver to look back and forth between the two, utterly confused.


	28. Session 28

**Session 28**

J.J. was sitting in Gary's tavern, alone for a change, editing one of his chapters and privately relishing the fact that he had some time to himself. While he could have gone to his apartment for privacy, he had always preferred the ambiance of the tavern. There was something about it that felt more like his home in the city – possibly because it was the first place he had set foot in once he arrived in Marville. Even though the little room Gary had lent him for a short while was cramped, he still waxed nostalgic about it from time to time, and he never regretted that he'd spent a few months there.

The reason he was alone was because, coincidentally, it seemed that everyone else was doing their own thing that day. Gwen was meeting with her brother, Ryan and Abby were still in school, he hadn't heard from Agni in a while, and Tristan and Susumu were at the garage. J.J. frowned to himself, pausing in his typing as his thoughts touched on Tristan. After their last battle with Agnar, Tristan had practically secluded himself from J.J. Of course, the knight didn't have a phone in the first place, but even when J.J. had tried to reach out to him through Susumu, he'd always gotten a curt response that Tristan was "busy."

J.J. wasn't stupid. He knew that seeing Agnar again had riled up Tristan, and he was certain that Agnar's taunt to duel him the next time they saw each other was weighing heavily on Tristan's mind. Personally, he couldn't fathom why Agnar's challenges to Tristan's honor were so offensive. Historically, most knights took their oath of chivalry about as seriously as an office worker took his oath to faithfully work a full eight-hour day without any interruptions. Yet Tristan was almost fanatical about defending his honor, and it was obviously clouding his judgment.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted as something in his pocket began vibrating. Thankfully, this time he was able to avoid a small heart attack – he'd started carefully separating his phone and diary into different pockets, so that he would immediately know if there was something attacking or if he was just receiving a phone call. In this case, it was the latter. He picked up his phone and glanced at the number, recognizing it as Agni's. Torn between pleased surprise and slight annoyance at being interrupted, he tapped the button to answer the call.

"Hello!" J.J. said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair a bit. "I was just thinking, I hadn't heard from you in a while."

"Sorry. Been busy with clients," Agni said sheepishly.

"That's a good sign. If they're giving you work, means that you're not in any danger of getting fired, right?" J.J. asked, unable to keep a slight grin off his face. "And if you're not getting fired, that means you won't become a Diemon again."

"Psh. Even if I was still a Diemon, I wouldn't stand a chance against you in a fight these days anyways," Agni chuckled. "So, I wanted to run something by you. Your manuscript's been making the rounds, and the company wanted to send out an editor to talk to you about it. Is there a meeting time that'd be good for you?"

J.J. hesitated, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. "You… know that I'm always on call," he replied slowly.

"Yeah, and I've told the company that. They're flexible about a meeting time, but they'd like a two-hour window or something that they can use to speak with you," Agni replied. "If you can't make it, they're willing to reschedule."

"That's… oddly generous of them," J.J. said carefully. "They liked the story that much?"

"Apparently," Agni replied. J.J. could practically hear the shrug in his voice.

"Huh. So, who're they sending?" J.J. asked, leaning forward slightly.

"No idea. I'll have more details for you later. Do you think we can set up a tentative meeting, though?" Agni asked.

"Yeah. Let me check a few things and get back to you with a time," J.J. replied. "Barring something catastrophic happening, though, it's not like I have much on my schedule to begin with."

"Psh. Knowing you, something catastrophic _is_ going to happen, no matter how available you supposedly are," Agni remarked with a snort of laughter.

"Yeah, such is my life," J.J. sighed. "I'll call you back when I have more info for you. Thanks, Agni."

"Least I can do for you, man," Agni replied. "Talk to you later."

J.J. hung up, and then proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes calling everyone that he could think of to make sure that no one had any pressing matters for him to attend to. Those that he couldn't get ahold of, he left a voicemail that basically begged them not to bother him with anything. When he had run through his list of friends, he spent a few moments considering whom he hadn't asked yet. His stomach began to sink as he realized one person he had yet to call, and he let out a soft groan. He had a sneaking suspicion that, due to the timing of Agni's request, something he had put into motion weeks ago was going to finally produce results. With a deep sigh, he pressed the contact number and held it up to his ear.

After the first three rings, a slightly elderly voice answered, "Ah, Mr. Wells! I'm glad you called! I was going to call you myself later today anyways, so I'm glad that you beat me to the punch!"

"Yeah… somehow, I figured you were going to," J.J. muttered, burying his face in his palm.

"I didn't catch that, son," Dr. Newman said.

"Nothing. So, what's going on?" J.J. asked.

"Well, I came across something in that book that you gave me. And… something else also came up that I should tell you about, too," Dr. Newman replied, his voice momentarily turning sour. "Would you and your Almencian friend be willing to stop by the school in a little while so that we can talk?"

"Sure. Might as well get it out of the way now," J.J. muttered. "Let me go grab Tristan and we'll be over in a bit."

"Atta boy! I'll be in my classroom!" Dr. Newman said cheerfully, before hanging up.

J.J. lowered the phone from his ear and buried his head in his arms with a despairing moan. He began banging his forehead against the edge of the table until Gary came over and grabbed him by the collar to restrain him.

"You know… it's times like this that I really wonder if the universe delights in torturing me," J.J. said gloomily, half-heartedly straining against Gary's grip so he could resume bashing his head against the table.

"Diemon attack?" Gary asked conversationally, holding J.J. firmly until he stopped struggling.

"I don't even know what it is this time," J.J. admitted, pushing himself up and straightening his collar, at which point Gary let him go. "But I'm sure it's going to be something that takes up all of my free time and prevents me from pursuing my career as a writer at the expense of saving someone else."

"Isn't that the definition of a hero? Someone who gives of themselves to save others?" Gary asked, smirking slightly.

"Even Superman was able to hold down a day job!" J.J. complained, scowling up at Gary. "I can't even schedule a meeting to get my novel looked at!"

"Superman also wasn't human. You are, and you have to deal with human problems as a human being," Gary pointed out. "And you've been do an excellent job, all things considered."

"Yeah, well, give me some of his powers so I can wrap this crisis up by the end of the week," J.J. groused, pushing himself up with a sigh as he slipped Gary a five dollar bill for the two sodas he'd had. "Thanks for letting me take up space, though."

"Hey, I let you take up an entire room for three months. I consider letting you lurk at a table a downgrade," Gary smirked at him.

"You're too kind," J.J. said drily, but he grinned to take the edge off his retort as he picked up his backpack. "I'll probably be back later to take up even more of your space."

"Next time, you're getting shoved in the corner," Gary said, tossing him a wave. "Good luck."

* * *

The first thing J.J. heard when he killed the engine of his motorcycle as he pulled up to the garage were the labored grunts of someone straining themselves. He briefly wondered if Tristan was trying to bench-press a car. As he walked around behind Susumu's garage, he saw the knight, shirtless and drenched with sweat, furiously swinging his mace at a practice dummy that was half-hanging off its wooden stake from the amount of abuse it had taken. Susumu was standing off to the side, leaning on his cane and staring silently at the knight as he watched the training session. When J.J. approached, he glanced over and tossed him a wave before motioning towards the knight.

"Good timing. He's been at this for four hours already. Not that I haven't been enjoying the view since he took his shirt off, but I'm getting to the point where I'm thinking of opening a betting pool regarding how long he has left before we have to rush him to the hospital," Susumu said drily. "Care to place a wager?"

"Fifty bucks on an hour and a half longer," J.J. quipped without missing a beat, though he was frowning with concern. "Has he taken any breaks? Drank any water?"

"Not to my knowledge. I wasn't paying attention for the first hour or so, but I haven't seen him stop this entire time," Susumu said, folding his arms. "Did something happen to set him off?"

"Another duel with Agnar," J.J. suggested, frowning to himself. "Agnar questioned his honor, but I didn't think he'd be working himself to death over him. Preparing for a duel is one thing, but he would read me the riot act for overworking myself like this. I'll talk with him."

"Remind him that he needs to shower before he comes inside. I want my garage to smell like grease, not sweat," Susumu said, turning to limp back to his workbench.

J.J. approached Tristan from the side, letting the knight see him clearly as he approached. Tristan glanced over at him, nodding by way of greeting as he finally stopped swinging his mace long enough to face him.

"Good afternoon, page. I am pleased to see you," Tristan panted, pausing to wipe his face off. "I trust that there is a reason for your visit?" His tone was almost hopeful.

"Dr. Newman might have a lead for us to follow," J.J. said cautiously, nodding to the practice dummy behind him. "Working out some frustration?"

"Attempting to modify my style so that it will be more effective against Sir Agnar," Tristan replied simply, wiping his forehead off. "I have found that mere defense is insufficient to stand against him, so I have been experimenting with an increased focus upon offense. If you would, I would like to request that you transform, so that I might judge its effectiveness against a live target."

J.J. glanced past him towards the battered dummy, before returning his gaze to the knight and slowly raising an eyebrow. "I dunno. Am I going to wind up looking like that?" he asked cautiously.

"I shall not endeavor to harm you. Though… I would recommend that you assume your Paladin Class. It will offer superior protection, and it is the best facsimile of Sir Agnar's form that you possess."

J.J. was still apprehensive, but a few moments later he was standing in front of Tristan in his Paladin Class, holding his halberd out in front of him. Tristan nodded from behind his own helmet, then pressed the stallion icon on his Driver. A loud neighing filled the air, and his lance appeared, hovering in front of him. J.J. raised an eyebrow at the unwieldly weapon, but Tristan pressed a button on its side, and it shrank considerably down to a more manageable size, about eight feet long. He gripped the spear in his right hand while keeping his shield raised as he beckoned for J.J. to attack. "Please be aggressive, page," Tristan encouraged him. "That is how Sir Agnar will fight."

J.J. wasn't sure about his role in this spar, since he knew that he was a poor substitute for Agnar. Even if he didn't lack Agnar's years of experience or talent for battle, the red knight also fought with a simmering bloodlust that J.J. knew he could never replicate. J.J. was a very cerebral fighter, while Agnar seemed to be more instinctual, and his strikes were far faster and more powerful than the ones J.J. could muster. Still, the least he could do was try.

Instead of trying to find an opening, J.J. simply charged in, though he kept his halberd in front of him, since he figured Tristan would try to jab at him with his spear. As he expected, Tristan tried to keep him at range with quick thrusts, but J.J. already knew how to counter that style; it was very similar to his own, after all. He parried the first two jabs before stepping in, cleaving at Tristan with an overhead attack that the knight caught on his shield. Immediately, Tristan responded with a shield bash that caught J.J. in his chest and sent him stumbling backwards. The knight followed this up by jabbing him in the chest, hard enough to push him back more, but not hard enough to pierce his armor. Still, it left J.J. momentarily out of breath.

J.J. was impressed by the maneuver, and he fought against his instinct to regroup and strategize. Instead, he reacted as he thought Agnar would. He pushed in again, furiously cleaving Tristan's spear to the side before stopping just short of another shield bash. He then brought his halberd down in another attack, which Tristan caught again. He stepped in once more and pushed against J.J., but the writer resisted, pushing back and turning Tristan's advance into a shoving match. With him pinned like this, however, Tristan suddenly dropped his spear and pushed the bull icon on his shield, summoning his mace while his lance disappeared.

J.J. immediately realized the danger he was in and tried to step back, but Tristan began furiously swiping at him with the mace. The first two attacks J.J. was able to block with the haft of his halberd, but Tristan's shield again caught him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. J.J. stumbled back, trying to slash at him, but Tristan's mace was faster, and he was caught in the shoulder. J.J. grunted in pain, falling back further, while Tristan kept advancing.

The knight kept continually raining blows upon him, but while J.J. was forced on the defensive, he noticed that Tristan's swings were steadily getting wider and sloppier. J.J. wasn't fast enough to capitalize on them, but he spotted moments when Tristan had his shield down, exposing his arms and chest. His halberd's range was restricting what he could do, but if he was in his base form with his shorter saber and Tristan was swinging at him this wildly….

His thoughts were interrupted as an attack caught him in the stomach, and J.J. fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of him. Tristan stood over him, bringing his mace up to deliver a finishing blow. J.J. threw his hands up, screaming, "Enough! Tristan, breathe!"

Tristan hesitated, and J.J. could almost see him blinking behind his helmet. He lowered his mace slowly, before shoving it under his armpit and holding his hand out to help J.J. to his feet.

"My apologies, page," Tristan said, sounding slightly dazed. "I was… overzealous."

"To put it mildly," J.J. grumbled, gingerly touching his ribs and wincing.

"Nevertheless, I am pleased that my adjustments appear to have been successful," Tristan added, stepping away from J.J., who glanced down.

"I don't know about that," J.J. said slowly. Tristan lowered his head, a gesture J.J. had come to interpret as him scowling.

"Explain," Tristan said shortly.

"I mean… yeah, there was nothing I could do to counter you when you were going on the offensive there," J.J. agreed, straightening up. "But that doesn't mean that you didn't have openings. You kept dropping your guard there towards the end, especially when you were putting everything you had into that final rush."

"Ah, I understand," Tristan chuckled. "No, you are mistaken, page. When one pursues offense to that degree, lapses in defense can be overlooked. After all, you were unable to counterattack, were you not?"

"Yeah. _I_ was," J.J. agreed. "But Agnar's faster and stronger than I am. Who's to say that he won't be able to exploit those openings?"

A slight edge crept into Tristan's voice. "That is why I intend to combine this new strategy with the defensive options afforded me by my own Criticals. I have yet to show you my full arsenal of Criticals."

"Yeah, but what about Agnar's Criticals?" J.J. asked. "Do you know what they are?"

"Of course I do," Tristan growled, sounding increasingly impatient, like a parent growing tired of answering a child's questions. "Rest assured, they pose no threat to me."

"But he's also stronger than I am, as I said, and I don't think you're factoring that in either," J.J. insisted. "If he can just overpower you-"

"Enough!" Tristan snapped, silencing J.J. immediately. Tristan took a short breath, saying in a calmer tone, "Enough, page. I appreciate your attempts at analysis, but your inexperience is apparent. I assure you, my strategy will prevail. Let us discuss it no further. Thank you for your assistance, and forgive me for distracting you. I assume you did not originally intend to aid me in combat training?"

"No," J.J. said, trying to keep the annoyed bite from his voice as he pulled his D-former out of his Driver, canceling his transformation before slipping it back into the central slot on the front cover of his diary. "Dr. Newman said that he had something he wanted to share with us, if you have the time."

"Indeed? Then we should depart immediately," Tristan said. "Once again, you have my apologies for my insistence upon training."

"It's fine," J.J. said. "It's the least I can do after all the help you've given me. Though I am worried that you're overworking yourself. You've gotten on me about that in the past, so I don't want you to do the same thing."

"Your concern is noted," Tristan said simply. "However, I am aware of my own limitations, so there is no need for worry. I have not pushed myself to exhaustion."

"Right," J.J. said, though he was unconvinced. He followed Tristan quietly to their motorcycles, but the entire time, he kept watching Tristan out of the corner of his eye, wondering when his mood was going to sour again.

* * *

"Thank you both for coming so quickly," Dr. Newman said as J.J. and Tristan sat down in empty desks at the front of his classroom.

"Quickly?" J.J. echoed under his breath. "And here I was worried that we were dawdling."

"You have information for us, Dr. Newman?" Tristan asked.

"Well… maybe," Dr. Newman said, taking a seat behind his desk and motioning the pair forward. They peered at the small text over his shoulders as the doctor ran his finger along the page. "I've spent the past few weeks studying this thoroughly. The text is fragmentary at best, and worse, it looks like some of the pages were torn out. It's as though someone was taking precautions to prevent other people from gleaning any information from this book."

"Considering it's a book about alchemical wonders, I can't imagine why," J.J. said drily. "We've already seen how much havoc alchemy can wreak."

"Quite right," Dr. Newman agreed. "However, whomever was selectively editing this book wasn't careful enough. There are a few references to a 'treasure of a forgotten island' that caught my eye. Now, a normal scholar might think they were referring to the legend of Atlantis and dismiss it outright, which is why I believe the references were left in there – the average person wouldn't know what they were looking at. We, on the other hand…."

"Almencia," J.J. finished, folding his arms over his chest. "So, what _is_ the treasure? Do you know?"

"Unfortunately, no. Merely that such a treasure might exist," Dr. Newman explained, shaking his head as he closed the book.

"Okay… so you called us over here to tell us that you hadn't really found anything, and that you just had a couple of suspicions?" J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow. "I feel like you could have done that over the phone."

"Ah… well, there is one other thing," Dr. Newman explained, looking away almost sheepishly. "You see, I… made a mistake. Because I wasn't sure about the reference, I called up a few of my former colleagues to see if they had any ideas. One of them is a former professor who's got something of a taste for artifacts. He didn't know what I meant, but… he informed me that he intended to find out."

J.J. and Tristan scowled more deeply at the doctor as he cringed under their glares. "Meaning what?" J.J. asked.

"Well… you know how I insisted that I was an archaeologist when we first met?" Dr. Newman squeaked. "My… associate styles himself as a treasure hunter instead."

J.J.'s frown deepened. "Meaning that while you'd go hunting for artifacts to study them and put them in a museum, he's in it for the money."

"Exactly," Dr. Newman nodded. "And the last thing the world needs is to be exposed to potentially volatile alchemical artifacts that could become active again. It's better to keep them all in one place to at least minimize their impact."

"Agreed," J.J. said. "So… where is he now?"

"That's just it," Dr. Newman explained. "He texted me about an hour ago explaining that he'd just arrived in the city. I told him to meet me here, so he should be here any minute. If he's going to do this, I wanted you two to be there to guide him through the tunnels so that he doesn't get hurt."

"Oh, you arranged a guide for me, Pat? I'm flattered," piped up a new voice, which drew the attention of the three men. Standing in the doorway was a balding grey-haired man in his mid-fifties wearing a loose blue denim shirt and khaki pants, with an overstuffed green backpack slung over his shoulder. He grinned at Dr. Newman as he sauntered into the classroom, holding his hand out to Dr. Newman, who took it reluctantly.

"Ed," Dr. Newman replied with a sigh, before motioning to the man by way of introduction to J.J. and Tristan. "Boys, this is Mr. Edward Murray. Ed, this is Tristan and J.J. I figured they'd be able to show you around the ruins without you getting hurt."

"Pleased to meet you boys!" Mr. Murray said cheerfully, holding his hand out to Tristan and J.J., the latter of whom took it, while the former nodded briefly, seeming put off by the man.

"Greetings, sir. I would suggest you depart immediately," Tristan said coldly. Mr. Murray's smile faltered, and J.J. gave him a sidelong glance.

"Something troubling you, son?" Mr. Murray asked uneasily.

"I dislike the idea of someone else poking around the last remains of my heritage," Tristan replied simply. "Not to mention, I do not believe you fully grasp the danger we may encounter."

"Agnar?" J.J. whispered to Tristan, who nodded in reply.

"To say the least. He will not hesitate to slay interlopers, especially those that lack Almencian blood. You know this, which is why I have insisted we steer clear of his domain," Tristan whispered back. "Not to mention the Shards, or any other Diemons we might encounter."

"I assure you, I'm fully trained in excavation and exploration, son. You don't need to worry about my safety," Ed replied soothingly. "Besides, I brought the very best equipment with me."

"That you place such value upon equipment highlights how woefully underprepared you are for this venture," Tristan replied sharply.

Ed was looking uncomfortable, but he said simply, "Son, I'd like you to guide me, but if you refuse, I'm more than happy to do this myself. I would even be willing to split anything we find with you, as payment," he explained.

J.J. could see Tristan bristling, and he quickly stepped in, pulling Tristan aside. "Look, we should take him up on this offer," he said in a low voice. "He's not lying – even if we chase him off, he's going to find another way to get underground. If you're that worried about his safety, we can go with him and keep an eye on him. Plus, if he has proper equipment with him, maybe we can go deeper into the ruins than we ever have before. It'd be good to find out what Agnar and the Black Seraph are doing down there. If a book in the Marks family library has pages specifically torn out, then it's likely they were trying to hide something, and I'd like to know what it is. It might give us answers about what the end goal of the Seraphs is."

Tristan looked away, seeming to be considering J.J.'s proposal, so he added, "Plus, you were the one spending all your time preparing for a duel with Agnar. Wouldn't it surprise him if you showed up on his turf, instead of the other way around for once?"

Tristan frowned at J.J., replying in a low voice, "I would much rather face him on my terms. If we descend into the ruins, he will likely have a distinct advantage, as he is far more familiar with the area than we are."

"Maybe. Or maybe we'll find something that even he hasn't seen, and that'd give _us_ the advantage." J.J. glanced over at Ed, his tone turning sympathetic. "I'll admit, I don't like playing tour guide for this guy either, but going with him sounds like the best option to keep him from getting hurt and to maybe get a little more information while we have the chance," he said.

Tristan still seemed hesitant, but he reluctantly sighed at last and inclined his head towards Ed. "Very well, Mr. Murray," Tristan said heavily. "If it will satisfy your curiosity, we shall accompany you into the ruins."

"Wonderful! So, what're we looking for, exactly?" Ed asked.

"We're… not sure ourselves," J.J. replied.

"Even better! It's more fun when we don't even know what awaits us!" Ed replied eagerly. Despite himself, J.J. smiled slightly. Though the man seemed foolish, there was something about his enthusiasm that was infectious. "Do we at least have an idea where to start?"

J.J. glanced over at Tristan, who shrugged. J.J. turned back and said, "Probably the easiest place to start would be one of the entrances over by the sports stadium. There's a large arena under there that'd be a good place to start poking around."

"An entire arena? Underground? Intact?" Ed asked, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. J.J. and Tristan nodded, and a grin split across his face. "That sounds fantastic!"

"Are you certain?" Tristan asked J.J. in a soft voice.

"If the White Seraph wanted you to find the arena like she said she did, there are likely tunnels leading from it to other facilities you would need to get in fighting shape," J.J. murmured in reply. "We're also more likely to find something new there. I think we already cleared out the section under the library, and it's less confusing than the catacombs under the Marks manor. Plus, I doubt you want this guy hanging around your father's remains," he added with a smirk at Tristan, who quirked his mouth in tacit agreement. "I also don't think Agnar is likely to be there. He doesn't have a reason to be, if Justin was the only other Almencian in the arena. There's nothing else to be gained. If we're trying to avoid him, this is the best way to do it."

Tristan slowly nodded as he listened to J.J.'s arguments, finally sighing as the writer finished. "Your argument is sound, page. Very well." Looking past him to Ed, he said, "We hereby agree to provide you with safe passage through the ruins beneath this city. However, you shall not stray from our protection under any circumstances. You do not understand how dangerous the lower levels can be, and there shall be no compromise to this stipulation."

"Yeah… alright," Ed replied, his face falling for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "That said, if we do run across any treasure, I want dibs on it."

"Maybe. Depending on what it is," Dr. Newman said, standing behind Ed with his arms folded. "The ruins mean much more to these two than they do to you. I'm going to leave it up to them to decide what you're allowed to walk away with."

Ed's glowered, but he finally sighed. "Alright, fine. But I expect to get at least something out of this," he grumbled.

"There's just one other quick thing," J.J. said, folding his arms over his chest. "When you entered town, did a man in black approach you, offering you a jewel of some sort?" Tristan nodded behind him, also looking somewhat concerned.

"No? Why, was there someone handing out jewels? Can I still go see him?" Ed asked, a greedy smile crossing his lips. J.J. and Tristan let out sighs of relief, trading smiles.

"Afraid not. Don't worry, if we go underground, we're likely to find something far more valuable than a couple of jewels," J.J. assured him. "In that case, we shouldn't waste any more time. Want to head there now?"

"Yeah, no point in lingering here any longer. Thanks for the tip, Pat!" Ed said, waving to Dr. Newman as he headed out the door. Tristan followed him out, and J.J. was about to do the same when Dr. Newman quickly grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him close.

"Even if he doesn't have a D-former of his own, keep an eye on him," Dr. Newman murmured. "I know Ed. We've put a lot of restrictions on what he can do, and he's going to chafe under them. Even without a D-former, expect his greed to get the better of him."

"Probably a good thing the Black Seraph didn't snap him up as soon as he entered the city, then," J.J. muttered in reply. "You're right, he seems like he'd probably hit Apotheosis as soon as he got a D-former. Don't worry, I won't let him out of my sight."

"Thank you," Dr. Newman replied. "And good luck."

J.J. nodded and hurried out the door, quickly catching up with Tristan and Ed, who were already nearly at the front doors of the school. Ed climbed onto the back of J.J.'s bike, and he led the way for Tristan, guiding him to the stadium. It was a short drive, even with afternoon traffic piling up, and less than ten minutes later they had parked and were making their way towards the drainage pipe that Abby had shown them.

"So, Dr. Newman mentioned that you were bringing your own equipment with you to help excavate," J.J. commented as they walked. "I was half-expecting you to have some sort of backhoe. Is your stuff in that backpack you're wearing?"

"Oh, yeah. Check this out," Ed said with a grin, unzipping the bag. J.J. and Tristan watched as he reached inside and withdrew a glistening black orb about the size of a basketball, with a large clear spot in the center that looked quite a bit like a flashlight before it was turned on. Ed reached down and flicked a switch on its top, whereupon the orb's central eye slowly flicked to life, turning an electric blue color. It let out a short string of binary sounds that reminded J.J. of a dial-up connection, and then it slowly floated into the air, swiveling around to take in its surroundings. J.J.'s mouth fell open and Tristan shied away from it warily while Ed grinned, his arms folded over his chest.

"What… is that thing?" J.J. asked, eyeing the construct warily. It swung its central eye towards him, and he could see the inner circle dilate, making him feel like he was being scanned.

"That's a little toy that I ran across on another one of my digs," Ed replied, a pleased look on his face. "I found it in what looked like the bombed-out ruin of an abandoned city. Give it a little while to boot up and it'll be capable of speech, but I'll save you some time. Its explanation can take a little while, so I'll give you the cliff notes. It calls itself a Pupil, and it was designed to perform any task assigned to it. Suppose that I want it to go digging. It'll find some loose scrap metal, design a body with a drill or some other mining equipment, and dig as deep as I want. It's a marvelous invention, really."

"No kidding?" J.J. asked, wandering around it to try and get a better look at its backside, though the Pupil kept staring at him, denying him that chance. "Susumu would love this thing. If it can perform any task, how come we haven't seen them before? Companies could make trillions on these things."

"No idea," Ed admitted. "Maybe something happened in the city where I found it, I dunno. Either way, it's been a big help on the digs that I've been on."

"And how many have you done?" J.J. asked.

"Total? About three dozen in my lifetime. Some lucrative, most not," Ed admitted. "I've been able to sustain my hobby with a few big scores. I'm hoping this dig will leave me with enough to retire, though. I can't do this forever."

"Oooh, so it's motivated by profit, is it?" came a familiar high-pitched voice that set J.J.'s teeth on edge. J.J. and Tristan whirled around to see the Fool sitting on the edge of the chain-link fence surrounding the outskirts of the stadium, giggling faintly. "If it's avaricious, we can give it riches. Gold and silver, jewels and gems… we can even give it a free gemstone immediately, if it so… desires," the Fool cackled.

"Really?" Ed asked, his eyes sparkling with greed.

"Don't bother," J.J. interrupted, stepping in front of Ed while he faced down the jester. "Keep in mind, every transaction has a price. Do you really think he's going to give it away for free? Besides, I'm sure that Dr. Newman mentioned how things have been in town lately. Trust me, it's not a price you want to pay, and if you're as skilled at treasure hunting as you say you are, you don't need any extra help anyways," J.J. assured him with a grin.

"That's… kind of you to say. And you've got a point," Ed said, smiling faintly, before looking up at the Fool. "I'll stick with what I have, thanks."

"Well, it's not as though we can force it to take our offer," the Fool shrugged. "But it may wish to reconsider our offer when it sees what waits for it underground. For instance," the jester chuckled, motioning to the entrance of the drain pipe.

J.J. and Tristan swung around in time to see a trio of Shards lumbering towards them. The Fool laughed as J.J. snapped his fingers, swearing under his breath as his quill flew into his hand, and he snapped it out into its saber form, while Tristan pressed a button on his own shield and his mace appeared as a loud mooing sound filled the air.

"Stay back!" J.J. said sharply to Ed, before darting forward with his sword extended. The Shard he was facing had an unusual protrusion in its arm – rather than the usual claws, its hand had fused together with the crystalline points forming a sort of shortsword. It stabbed at J.J. who immediately swayed out of the way and slashed at the monster. Its reflexes were quicker than he'd expected, as it brought its hand up and parried J.J.'s blow. The sound of the metal hitting the crystal resounded like a sharp, clear bell that echoed through the drainage ditch before fading.

The Shard reached out to grab J.J., but he jumped back before it could, waving his sword to fend it off. The blade nicked two fingers off, but the Shard seemed unperturbed. It stabbed at him two more times, both of which J.J. managed to sway out of the way. The third attack left it overextended, and J.J. stepped in after he parried the blow, burying his sword into its throat. The Shard silently fell to the ground before dissolving, and J.J. looked up in time to see Tristan facing off against the other two Shards.

The knight wasn't holding back against the Shards, and J.J. had never seen him fight so aggressively. His mace never stopped moving as he bashed one Shard's claws to the side before bringing his mace down on its skull with a dull, rocky cracking sound. The monster collapsed as its compatriot slashed at Tristan in retaliation. Tristan kept swinging in return, however, ignoring defense entirely, and to J.J.'s surprise, one of the Shard's swipes opened a bloody gash on Tristan's upper arm. It was the first time he'd ever seen a Shard wound his companion. He hurried forward to flank the Shard, but Tristan finished the fight before he could get there. He kicked the Shard viciously in the chest, sending it sprawling, and he stood over it for a moment before bashing its face in with two brutal attacks. When the Shard dissolved into dust, he turned towards the Fool and pointed his mace at the clown.

"Follow us and you shall share their fate," Tristan threatened the harlequin. The Fool stared at him for a moment before throwing its head back and laughing hysterically, rocking back on the fence while gripping it to maintain its balance.

"Oh, what fun! We do hope you can follow through on that threat!" Still giggling, the Fool shook its head. "But rest assured, we don't intend to stop you. We're merely an envoy of the Black Seraph, and those that don't want his gifts needn't take them. But we wonder if what it finds down there is really the treasure it expects to discover."

"You could just tell us what we're looking for," J.J. suggested, folding his arms.

"We could, but what fun would that be? That's the purpose of an adventure! Go forth and see what it can discover! And do bring us back a trinket if it finds one." The Fool bounded away, still laughing, as J.J. shook his head.

"I wish I knew what that thing's game is," he muttered. He walked over to Ed, who was looking back and forth between J.J. and Tristan with a look of awe on his face. "Are you alright, Mr. Murray?"

"That was incredible!" Ed exclaimed. "Where'd you two learn to fight like that?!"

"We've been practicing," J.J. replied evasively. He glanced over at Tristan, who was glaring at the wound on his arm. "Is that going to be a problem?" he added, frowning at the knight.

"It shall not hinder me," Tristan said gruffly. He tore the rest of his sleeve off and tied it around the wound, before motioning towards the entrance to the tunnels. "Let us proceed."

J.J. gazed at Tristan for a second longer, but when Tristan glared at him insistently, he took the lead and walked into the drainpipe. They walked in silence for the next several minutes as J.J. tried to remember the path they'd taken with Abby. Ed's floating Pupil lit the way far more effectively than a flashlight would have, so their progress was, thankfully, relatively swift. Fortunately, the route was familiar enough that J.J. was able to retrace their steps, and some time later, they emerged into the open arena.

J.J. heard Ed gasp behind him, and he grinned to himself as he turned around to see the amazed look on the man's face. He chuckled slightly as Ed gazed around the arena, quietly taking it in, before turning to J.J. "This was underneath the city the entire time? How long has it been here?"

"Centuries, at least," J.J. replied. "And there's no point in stopping here, before you ask. We've already looked around here. Unless you want a couple of rusty swords, there's nothing of value. From this point on, we're as lost as you are."

"Hm. While old equipment might have some value, I'll take your word for it. I agree, there's probably more valuable things deeper in. From here on, let me take the lead," Ed said, nodding to his Pupil.

The floating robot's eye dilated, and a blue laser scanned the area while it beeped softly to itself. It swung around in a brief circle before commenting to itself, "SCAN COMPLETE. VIABLE RESOURCES DISCOVERED. ASSIMILATING."

The robot flew up to an upper level, extending a pair of small claws from its underside as it did. It disappeared from view for a few moments, and when it returned, it was clutching the pieces of a rusty suit of armor. It did so two more times until it seemed to decide it had enough scrap metal. Once the suits had been collected in a pile, it dove into them, and loud whirring and banging sounds filled the air as J.J. and Tristan stepped back a few paces, eyeing it warily. A small duststorm was kicked up from the activity, and when the clouds of dirt finally settled, J.J.'s eyes widened.

The Pupil was now resting atop a four-legged machine, comprised of the rusted iron that it had pulled together. Three arms extended from the trunk of the body, one ending in a drill, another in some sort of piston, and the third shaped like a spade. The Pupil looked down at itself before experimentally testing its legs. It scuttled forward far more rapidly than J.J. would have expected, and even the Pupil seemed surprised, as it reared back onto its hind legs before it stopped. The robot then shifted its gaze to its drill, which spun rapidly, and the piston clanged loudly as it hammered a couple times. Seeming satisfied, the Pupil spun in place to pin Ed under its vision. "IRISE FULLY CONSTRUCTED. MINING MODULE COMPLETE."

"Excellent work," Ed grinned. J.J. gaped at the machine while Tristan folded his arms, gazing at it curiously

"…Irise?" J.J. asked dumbly.

"Yep," Ed shrugged. "That's what it calls itself when it's got a body. I don't get it myself, but I'm sure it has some sort of meaning."

"It sounds kind of like iris, another part of an eye. Or does it mean that it rose? Arose?" J.J. asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Like I said, I dunno. All I know is that it's a damn good mining machine," Ed chuckled.

"Utterly fascinating," Tristan remarked. "This is on par with some of the alchemical wonders that Lord Quintus created. Its only flaw is the absence of true life."

"And it even recycles scrap materials," J.J. added. "This thing could revolutionize the way we live. You said you found it in a bombed-out city?"

"I did. Like I said, I don't know what happened. I'm just glad I found it before someone else got their hands on it. This thing alone has been worth a fortune, and I got it for free," Ed grinned. He turned his attention to the Irise, adding, "You know the drill… no pun intended. Look for the nearest source of valuable metals or gemstones."

"ACKNOWLEDGED," the Irise said. J.J. glanced over at Tristan and he hurried forward.

"Please don't damage any of the ruins either!" he said hastily.

"Don't worry. It tends to avoid anything valuable once those parameters have been set, and it won't damage any part of the structure, especially if it's keeping the cave up," Ed assured him gently. "Just let it work."

J.J. couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive as the Irise approached a solid wall near the back of the arena. To his relief, he saw that the wall wasn't part of the main structure of the colosseum, so it did indeed seem to be avoiding damaging anything it didn't have to. He covered his ears as the drill part of the machine began spinning, and it drove into the solid rock while the piston jackhammered into the wall to weaken the stone further and the spade steadily cleared away the loose dirt. Ed motioned for them to follow the Irise as it cleared a tunnel for them to walk through.

They walked in silence for about half an hour, unable to say anything to each other over the noise of the machinery. J.J. kept his hands clapped over his ears the entire time, and he could feel his teeth vibrating as the Irise dug deeper into the ruins. Finally, there was a loud cracking sound that could be heard over the whirring of the Irise, and the drilling abruptly stopped as the machine stepped out of the newly-created tunnel. Ed followed closely behind, and J.J. and Tristan clambered out after him. They blinked as their eyes adjusted to the new sight before them.

Looming over them was what looked like a small castle. The white walls were lower than the massive curtain walls J.J. had seen in books and movies, but they were still formidable, and studded with the trademark crenellations of a medieval fortress. Four circular towers guarded each of the corners, capped and illuminated by massive blue crystal formations, and inside the walls J.J. could just make out the large keep. Once again, he was amazed at the White Seraph's ability to move entire structures, and he turned to comment about it to Tristan when he noticed that the knight was staring at the manor with more than mere admiration. He looked like he was in shock.

"This… is impossible," Tristan whispered. J.J. frowned and nudged his shoulder.

"What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost," J.J. said.

"This… this is Lord Quintus' manor," Tristan explained. J.J. stared at him in silence for several long moments before looking back at the imposing fort.

"He needed an entire castle to himself?" J.J. remarked drily.

"He was quite reclusive," Tristan explained. "And as a lord, he was entitled to private lands. I visited his manor on a few occasions, and it was unlike any other in Almencia. The most obvious sign that this is his property are those," he said, nodding to the crystals bathing the area in a soft blue light. "No other lord possessed those."

"I wonder how much those are worth," Ed commented, an avaricious grin spreading across his face.

"Do not attempt to take them," Tristan warned him sharply. "It would prove a futile effort. Steel alone would not be enough to damage them."

"You really won't let me take anything, will you? Mind if we check inside, then?" Ed suggested.

Tristan hesitated. J.J. walked over, touching his shoulder and murmuring, "This _is_ why we came down here, to check Almencia's alchemical history. We can't do better than visiting the home of the person who invented the Seraphs. Maybe he'll even have something on their creation."

"I… must concede that is true," Tristan murmured. "It merely feels… wrong to desecrate the lands of one of Almencia's greatest minds."

"It's for a good cause. And it's better we do it than let Ed run wild and destroy the place," J.J. pointed out softly, before raising his voice and adding. "C'mon, help me open the gates."

"Oh, allow me," Ed said, motioning for his Irise to come forward. "You two might have trouble getting through them."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. PROCEEDING TO REMOVE OBSTACLE," the Irise announced. Its drill began whirling loudly while its piston clanked, the sounds echoing through the cavern.

"Please wait!" Tristan cried, moving forward to stop the Irise as it scuttled forward to breach the doors. Before he could reach it, however, a new voice boomed over the din.

"What in blazes is that noise?!" a deep, angry voice demanded. The Irise and the three men paused and looked up at a figure standing on the battlements above them, directly over the gate. By J.J.'s estimation, he was in his late forties or early fifties. He was sporting thick, curly red hair that was turning grey and which fell to his shoulders and slightly obscured his green eyes. It was matched in bushiness by the similarly colored full beard that obscured most of his mouth. His tall, brawny body was hidden behind a blue tunic and leggings combination, the former of which was cinched by a familiar Driver. Tristan's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth as he spat the man's name.

"Sir Agnar," he hissed. "Pray, how dare you befoul Lord Quintus' lands with your presence?"

"Befoul? This manor was enfeoffed to me by the Black Seraph himself," Agnar replied. "Say what you will of the legitimacy of his claim to the crown of Almencia, but you cannot deny that as the patriarch of the Marks family, these lands are his to give at his discretion."

"I dunno about his position as patriarch," J.J. chimed in, smirking up at Agnar. "You scampered away from Gwen pretty quickly the other day, so you must recognize her legitimacy. Wouldn't you say her brother has more of a claim as head of the Marks family than one of Quintus' old toys?"

Agnar looked down at J.J. with a glare that could melt iron, and he growled, "As we speak of befouling presences, I must ask you, Sir Tristan, to remove this insolent peasant from my lands. I will not deign to address him, particularly when he trespasses upon my domain."

J.J. snorted with laughter while Tristan glowered up at Agnar in return. "I shall not. Nor have you answered my question."

Agnar looked behind him towards the keep before replying, "I have assumed residence of these lands while I fulfill my mission to my liege. You are welcome within my walls, though I must insist that your entourage remain outside. I was hoping we might discuss your resumption of service in the name of Almencia."

"There is naught to discuss," Tristan spat in return. "I name you turncoat and traitor."

"Yet still you refuse to back your insults through force of arms," Agnar retorted calmly. "Slander me if you wish, but your words carry no weight if you are unwilling to temper them with steel."

"You needn't wait any longer, if steel is your wish!" Tristan shouted at him. Agnar's eyes widened, then narrowed with disappointment.

"Is there no chance for parley, Sir Tristan?" Agnar asked sadly.

"Did you give my brother the chance to parley?" Tristan snapped back furiously. Agnar sighed, looking away as though weighing his options. Ed, meanwhile, nudged J.J., looking confused.

"What's this about, exactly?" he whispered.

"Agnar up there claims he killed Tristan's brother, and Tristan declared a blood feud. It was a serious challenge back in the Viking era," J.J. explained quickly.

"Uh… huh. Are you saying they're part of a Viking bloodline?" Ed asked. "Pat mentioned something like that over the phone, that these two are descended from some ancient European line. Do they still follow the old customs?"

"Sorta. It's complicated," J.J. whispered. "Long and short of it… this is going to end badly." Agnar, meanwhile, finally looked down at Tristan, his eyes full of regret.

"I wish it had not come to this, Sir Tristan," Agnar said softly. "Time and again I have offered my hand to you in friendship in the hopes that we could rebuild the land we love so much, and yet every time you have slapped it away. I have even indulged your camaraderie for this peasant, allowing you to violate rules we are honor-bound to obey, yet you continue to insult me while attempting to claim morality. No longer. If you truly wish a duel, then we shall fight to your satisfaction. Enter."

Agnar leaned over and pulled a switch, and the heavy double doors began to slowly creak open. Tristan walked forward, his jaw set and his eyes fixed on the manor. J.J. and Ed moved to follow him, but Agnar suddenly called out.

"I did not grant you permission to enter my keep!" Agnar bellowed. J.J. rolled his eyes and folded his arms, staring defiantly up at the knight.

"You need witnesses for a duel, don't you?" he retorted. "Besides, you know that I could jump these walls without a problem if I put my armor on. And if that's not enough to convince you, I thought my presence would be inconsequential to someone as powerful as you. Aren't you strong enough that you could easily beat me if I tried to interfere?" he smirked.

He could practically hear Agnar grinding his teeth in frustration, but it was clear to J.J. that Agnar couldn't refute his points. Finally, the red knight responded through clenched teeth. "Enter. Take your place upon the battlements and do not dare tread upon the central courtyard." He glanced at Ed before reluctantly motioning for him to follow J.J. as well.

J.J. and Ed walked through the large doors with the Irise following behind them, patiently awaiting orders. A staircase next to the walls led them up to the battlements, which J.J. walked on until he was standing above the gates where Agnar had been standing. Below them, Agnar and Tristan walked across the dirt courtyard, stopping near the center and taking their places about twenty feet from each other, staring at each other intently.

"It needn't have come to this, Sir Tristan," J.J. heard Agnar say sadly. "I wish you could put your love of your homeland before your need for vengeance."

"Silence," Tristan hissed. "I _am_ doing this for my homeland. If you serve the Black Seraph, then your defeat will bring us one step closer to ensuring he does not bring ruin to the rest of the world as he did to Almencia."

"Too bad that's not really why you're doing this, eh, Tristan?" J.J. asked softly. Ed glanced over at him curiously, but J.J. simply shook his head. It was obvious that Tristan was using that as an excuse to get revenge on Agnar, and Agnar clearly recognized that as well.

"As you wish, Sir Tristan," Agnar said. "I assume you wish for us to fight in our armor? Please, then, arm yourself."

Tristan glared at Agnar as he slowly pulled his shield out of his pocket, briefly touching it to his breast before holding it out in front of him. "Henshin!" he shouted, and his Driver appeared around his waist at the command. He slotted the shield into his Driver, then gave the central blue die a quick spin.

" **Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"** his Driver shouted, and a shimmering blue die surrounded him, rotating around him for a few moments as cymbals clashed in the air. Once the spinning stopped, Tristan stood in his plate armor, and he touched a button on his Driver. A loud neighing filled the cavern, and his spear appeared from his shield, hovering in front of him until he grabbed it.

"HENSHIN? HENSHIN… SEARCHING DATABASE…." the Irise piped up suddenly. Both J.J. and Ed glanced at the machine curiously as it began clicking and whirring, sounding exactly like a computer processing an Internet search. The two men traded glances before shrugging and turning their attention back to the two knights below them.

"Henshin? Might that be your current battle cry? I believe the peasant used it as well. Intriguing," Agnar commented as he pulled his own fiery D-former from a pouch on his Driver. "A new era, and a new name for knights. I suppose I should follow convention as well, should I not? Henshin," he said, before putting the D-former into the pommel of the small sword that he used for his own transformation. He then slid the sword, point-down, into his Driver and spun the vermillion jewel.

" **Take up arms! Class: Dragoon!"** Agnar's Driver yelled in a far deeper voice than either J.J. or Tristan's Drivers. Bells resounded in the air as Agnar was enveloped in a fiery red-orange gem, and as it finished spinning, he was wearing his own draconic armor. His massive greatsword clung to his back until he pulled it from his armor and gave it a short test swing before holding it in a vertical, two-handed stance.

"To the death, then, Sir Tristan. To the victor go the spoils," Agnar intoned.

"And may the defeated find honor in death," Tristan replied, though his voice was strained with barely-contained fury. The two stared at each other for a few moments while J.J. held his breath. Then, Tristan made the first move.

The blue-armored knight charged across the courtyard, bellowing a challenge. Agnar seemed surprised, even taken aback by the sudden offensive maneuver. Thus, he barely managed to react in time as Agnar thrusted at him with his spear. Agnar's sword came around to parry the attack, but its size and weight proved to be a disadvantage as Tristan repositioned his spear and struck again, then again, and then a third time. Agnar kept shifting his blade to knock the strikes away, managing to parry them, before attempting a quick stab of his own. Thanks to the length of Tristan's spear, however, the blue knight was well out of his range, and he swiped the air while the attack left him open to a jab to his shoulder.

Tristan's attack knocked Agnar back a couple of steps, and Tristan pressed his opponent, stabbing forward once more. This time, Agnar batted the thrust aside and dove in to counterattack, trying to get within medium range. Just like during their practice, though, Tristan seemed to anticipate this, and he stepped in to meet Agnar's charge. He pressed a button on his Driver with his elbow, and spikes emerged from the face of his shield. He bashed Agnar with his shield, and Agnar let out a cry as he was forced back a couple of paces. In perfect timing with his counter, Tristan also stepped back and jabbed forward again, catching Agnar firmly in the stomach and making him double over.

"He's… doing well, isn't he?" Ed commented, watching the fight with wide eyes.

"For the moment," J.J. muttered, folding his arms. "I'm just hoping his form doesn't collapse like it did when we were training."

He looked past Ed at the Irise, which was intently watching the fight. J.J. frowned as the whirring of its processor picked up, and he began to grow worried as he heard the machine muttering to itself. "DATABASE… HENSHIN… UNABLE TO CONNECT… SEARCHING ARCHIVES…."

"Is… that thing going to be okay?" J.J. asked, nodding to Ed's machine. The treasure hunter tore his eyes away from the duel to frown at the machine.

"I've never seen it do that before," Ed admitted. "Hey, Irise, what-?"

That train of thought was interrupted by a loud clashing of metal, and both J.J. and Ed's eyes whipped back to the fight. Agnar was growing frustrated with Tristan's skillful distance management and was resorting to ducking in to attack. Each time, however, Agnar met him with a counter-charge. He was keeping his guard up, not allowing Agnar to establish himself at mid-range where his weapon was most effective. Agnar feinted a step in, then tried to back up, but Tristan retreated a step as well, allowing him to resume jabbing him with his spear, forcing Agnar on the back foot again. His attacks weren't doing much damage, but they were steadily wearing the red knight down. What's more, Tristan's endurance training was clearly paying off, as he was conserving his energy and maintaining his form despite having to constantly shift his tactics. It helped that Agnar was unable to throw many counterstrikes against him which would have whittled away Tristan's own stamina, assuming he even blocked the attacks.

"You have… always been… a worthy… opponent, Sir Tristan," Agnar panted in a brief lull in the combat. "A masterful display."

Tristan didn't say anything, but it was clear that he was sensing weakness. He stuck his spear into the ground and charged forward, taking advantage of Agnar's fatigued state. A bovine bellow sounded throughout the cave as Tristan drew his mace, and he closed the distance once more. This time, he went on the offensive, smashing at Agnar with his mace while simultaneously battering him with the shield. J.J. almost felt as though he was watching a boxer execute a combo, as Agnar was forced to contend with Tristan jabbing at him with his shield before throwing heavy hooks with his mace. The red knight was on the back foot, trying to put more distance between him and Tristan so that he could swing his sword, but Tritan was doggedly pursuing him, not allowing him to pull more than a foot away while he hammered at Agnar from close range.

J.J. was growing concerned, however. When he had sparred with Tristan, he had thought that he'd seen him opening up as his assault grew more intense. From above, the openings were even more evident. Tristan was starting to forsake the use of his shield to focus on landing as many hits with his mace as possible. He kept winding back and slamming the weapon against Agnar's guard, but the attacks were becoming slower and heavier. Agnar seemed to notice this as well and began biding his time, patiently blocking the attacks and drawing Tristan further in. Finally, Tristan dropped his guard completely to wind his mace back as far as he could, and that was when Agnar acted. He suddenly kicked Tristan's exposed chest, catching him by surprise, and with Tristan's guard completely broken, he slashed the blue knight across the torso with one mighty swing of his claymore.

Tristan stumbled backwards, yelling as J.J. screamed, "Tristan!" His heart stopped for a few moments as he tried to assess the damage. Thankfully, Tristan's armor had withstood the blow, leaving only a long scratch along its azure surface. What worried J.J., however, was that with his rush halted, the aftereffects were catching up with Tristan. He was visibly sagging and panting, and while Agnar was still short of breath, he seemed to have more energy, even despite the moderate damage he had taken from the opening rounds. J.J. felt his blood start to run cold as he realized that the tide of the duel had shifted now that Tristan had lost his momentum.

"Foolish, Sir Tristan," he heard Agnar say. "Had you stayed the course, you might have prevailed. You were never particularly proficient at offensive combat. As you know, that was always my domain. Allow me to remind you why."

Agnar's hand drifted down to the D-former lodged in his belt, and he gave it a quick spin as his Driver yelled **"Critical!"** into the open cavern. A vermillion die briefly spun around him before collapsing around his body, sheathing it in a fiery orange light. The light seemed to begin rising around him, flickering like flames, as Agnar's head snapped forward limply. He began to scream, starting out at a low growl before rising in pitch and intensity until he was shrieking like a madman. Both hands gripped his enormous claymore, and he brought it over his shoulder before swinging it in a wide arc.

Tristan quickly brought his shield up, but the sheer force of Agnar's attack knocked it aside. Tristan let out a sharp yell of pain and was forced to back away as Agnar advanced, swinging his blade wildly. Twice more, he swung his sword in wild arcs, and each time Agnar managed to deflect the attack, though both times his shield was knocked aside again. Thankfully, Tristan was able to keep a grip on it, but he had no room to maneuver or counterattack.

From his position atop the battlements, J.J. could tell that Agnar's strength and speed had increased dramatically, but it appeared to be at the cost of his sanity. The man was yelling maniacally as he attacked, roaring like he was possessed as he immersed himself in bloodlust while hammering continuous blows down on Tristan's shield.

"A berserker rage," J.J. said under his breath. Ed gave him a curious look, but J.J. ignored him, focusing entirely on the fight. Agnar had no technique by this point, but his sheer power and speed were overwhelming Tristan. He suspected that Agnar was only risking this because Tristan had already worn himself out. Was that why Tristan had tried to end the fight so quickly, because he knew Agnar had this ace up his sleeve? Or had he been trying to beat Agnar with an imitation of his own style?

Unconsciously, his hand slipped into his jeans, grasping his diary. As soon as he felt the pages between his fingers, however, he stopped himself. Then, the rational part of his brain began screaming at him. Why was he hesitating? Fighting for honor was a stupid, outdated concept that was going to get Tristan killed. He couldn't take on the Black Seraph without Tristan's help, and if he didn't step in, Agnar was going to kill him.

Despite that, he continued to watch, though he gripped his diary so tightly that his fingers were turning white. Agnar's style had been reduced to mercilessly bashing Agnar's guard with a series of heavy overhead strikes while the blue knight cowered behind his shield. J.J. squinted as he saw Agnar shifting his hand towards his belt, and suddenly a cry of **"Critical!"** sounded in the air. Tristan was enveloped in a blue die, momentarily knocking Agnar back, and the die formed a shimmering blue coating around Tristan's mace and shield. Gripping his weapons, he charged forward, yelling furiously as he battered Agnar with several short, quick pummels of his shield. The sudden charge knocked the red knight back, and Tristan followed this up by swinging his mace three times. Two of the blows slammed into Agnar's face, while the third connected with his stomach. Slowly, the blue aura around Tristan faded, and the knight sagged again, exhausted.

Agnar remained stock-still in the aftermath of the attack, his head hanging limply as he gazed up at the ceiling. J.J. momentarily wondered if he had been knocked unconscious, until Agnar lazily rolled his head around and began yelling again. Tristan wearily raised his shield once more, but J.J. could see his arms trembling even from there.

"Come on, Tristan!" J.J. shouted. "Get your act together! You're gonna lose to this fake Kamen Rider? You-!"

He had more to say, but he was interrupted by a piercing alarm going off. J.J. looked over to see the Irise's central eye had turned blood red while a loud siren echoed from its loudspeakers. "DATA FOUND. SUBJECT: KAMEN RIDER. INITIATING ELIMINATION PROTOCOLS."

J.J. turned as the Irise suddenly raised its arm at Agnar and Tristan, pointing its drill at them. The tool began spinning rapidly before firing from its arm like a rocket. Tristan turned in time to roll out of the way as the drill slammed into the dirt, burying itself deep into it before it stopped spinning. The Irise's jackhammer began to piston threateningly as it moved to trundle down the stairs. Even Agnar's mad rush seemed temporarily broken as he registered the new threat.

"Page! Do not allow that abomination to interfere with our duel!" Tristan demanded. Agnar's head tilted curiously at the robot, but Tristan slammed his mace against his shield to draw his attention back to their fight.

"Right… that tears it. Today's been downright bizarre," J.J. said drily to himself as he pulled his diary out of his pocket and held it up to his left cheek. He flipped to his stats page, calling out into the cavern, "Henshin!"

His Driver materialized around his waist, and he slotted his diary before giving his amber D-former a spin. **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted, and trumpets played while a brownish die appeared around him before rotating quickly as J.J.'s body was coated in his familiar leather armor. Once the holographic die had faded, J.J. snapped his fingers, and his quill flew into his hand. He snapped it out into its shortsword form before leaping over to land in front of the Irise just as it reached the bottom of the stairs.

The Irise gave him a curious look, its central eye flicking back and forth. "KAMEN RIDER?" it asked.

"I wouldn't call myself that, but if that'll get you to focus on me, then sure," J.J. quipped. He then had to duck out of the way as the Irise's jackhammer jabbed at his face. Reflexively, he brought his sword up to counter the attack, but the android was far stronger than he had anticipated. His blade simply bounced off its metal hammer, and it was only because he had ducked first that he wasn't impaled on the improvised weapon.

J.J. took a couple steps back and dropped into a fencing stance, daring the Irise to come closer. The droid responded by spinning around on its central axis, swinging its spade at him. J.J. quickly brought his sword up, catching the attack on the flat of his blade while he lowered his shoulder into the attack. With him putting all his strength into the block, he was able to stop it, though his feet slid across the dusty ground slightly. The robot clicked in surprise as J.J. threw a slash of his own at its arm, and it yanked the appendage back before he could slice it. That confirmed for him that his sword was sharp enough to do damage to it, as he doubted the machine would have pulled its arm back otherwise.

J.J. went on the offensive, stabbing twice at the robot to probe its defenses. It caught the first strike on its spade, while the second slipped through to hit its body. J.J. grunted as he put a bit more force behind the attack. The tip of his blade sank into the softer metal, though he lacked the force to do more than superficial damage. Before the robot could counter, he put his hand on his red D-former.

" **Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** his Driver shouted, and J.J. was wreathed in a red die that appeared around him, shielding him. The Irise was driven backwards by the holographic gemstone, and war drums played as J.J.'s leather became a harder lamellar. He was soon clad in Viking-esque apparel as the spinning stopped, while the Irise scanned him curiously.

"ASSESSING THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE," the Irise intoned.

"See, now that's just insulting," J.J. replied, hefting his hammer over his shoulder. He grunted as he swung it around, slamming it into the robot's heavy body. This time, the attack left the monster shuddering from the force of the blow, and he saw a dent in its chassis, which brought a grin to J.J.'s face. Like he thought, when it came to sheer physical power, his Warrior Class was the best choice, and while the robot was quite resilient, it was also rather slow, so J.J. wasn't at a disadvantage in that category. All he had to do was keep bashing it until it stopped moving.

J.J. delivered two more hard attacks to the robot's metal body, making it tremble again, before turning his hammer around and swinging it around so that the metal spike at the end pierced its chassis. The Irise looked down at the weapon buried in its side, then realized that J.J. was stuck as he tried to pull it out. It swung its jackhammer arm around and rammed it into J.J.'s side, before activating it. J.J. screamed as the weapon pounded into his ribs, and only his heavy armor prevented him from taking lethal damage.

With a grunt, he yanked his hammer out of the robot and staggered backwards, clutching his chest and wheezing. He could still feel his bones reverberating from the Irise's attack. "Yeah… let's not… do that again," he murmured to himself. While he had left deep gouges in its metal body, the Irise was still only minimally damaged. J.J. would have to try something else. He looked up at the Pupil resting on top of the body and was struck with an idea that, in retrospect, seemed obvious.

J.J. put his fingers on the red and blue D-formers in his diary and spun them. **"Reroll! Multiclass: Ranger!"** his Driver shouted, and a red and blue die appeared around him, coalescing into a single emerald jewel that whirled around him as a hunting horn sounded. J.J. felt his body grow lighter as it was clad in leather armor once more, and his hammer bent to become a supple longbow. As the spinning stopped, his short green cloak fluttered behind him as the last of the wind settled.

The Irise lunged at him with its spade, but J.J. immediately leapt backwards as an arrow appeared in his left hand. He landed lightly on top of the walls and loosed the arrow at the Irise's head. The machine reacted with inhuman reflexes, covering the Pupil, but J.J. simply grinned at this. If it was that protective of its head, he was on to something. He began running along the battlements, firing off two more arrows as he went, but each time the Irise protected itself, though the wooden bolts did pierce its iron skin. The Irise lowered its arms for a moment, gazing down at them and inspecting the wounds while J.J. took a moment to glance over at Tristan and Agnar's duel.

Agnar no longer seemed to be in his berserker state, but in its wake, Tristan had suffered serious damage. His thick blue armor was scratched and dented in several places where it had barely managed to protect him from Agnar's furious onslaught, though thankfully Tristan was still standing. His shield was limply hanging off one arm, and his mace was lying in the dirt twenty feet away. As J.J. watched, Tristan weakly raised his shield to protect himself from a powerful horizontal slash. The attack tore the shield from his arm, where it clattered unceremoniously across the ground. Tristan watched it settle on the ground before looking up at Agnar from where he was sitting in the dirt.

Agnar hesitated. His grip tightened on his greatsword as he held it above his head, then he said shortly, "Rise, Sir Tristan. A knight should die on his feet, not cowering in the dirt."

Tristan glared up at him, but slowly pushed himself up. He staggered forward, and Agnar held out a hand to steady him. The two men looked at each other for a long moment, Agnar's shoulders slumping while Tristan glowered at him defiantly.

J.J. felt his breath catch in his throat as Agnar slowly brought his claymore to his shoulder to deliver the killing stroke. Quickly, J.J. summoned an arrow, aimed it at Agnar's unprotected back, and loosed it. The bolt pierced the air faster than the eye could follow, and less than a second later it struck the red knight in the back. Agnar let out a yell of pain, and both he and Tristan turned to glare furiously at J.J., who slowly lowered his bow.

"Oops," he said in a completely deadpan voice, before motioning to the Irise several feet below him. "I missed."

Agnar growled and gripped his sword tightly as he turned to stalk towards J.J. At the red knight's approach, the Irise glanced between the two, before announcing, "SITUATION UNFAVORABLE. RETREATING TO ENACT REPAIRS."

J.J. and Agnar had almost been ignoring it, but both their attention was drawn to the Irise suddenly scuttling between them and up the front stairs of Quintus' keep. It unceremoniously clanked through the front doors before disappearing into the mansion.

J.J. and Agnar stared after it, neither one seeming to know what to make of it. Thankfully, J.J. recovered first, and thinking quickly, he pointed to the keep.

"Shouldn't you go after it?" he suggested to Agnar. "You said the Seraph enfeoffed this place to you, right? I'm sure your duty of maintaining your lands supersedes any secondary honor duel, right?"

Agnar looked after the retreating machine, before slowly lowering his sword. He gazed at J.J. a second longer, and though it was faint, J.J. could almost swear Agnar gave him a slight, nearly imperceptible nod of his head, as if wordlessly thanking him. The draconic knight then spun on his heel and stalked into the keep after the Irise.

J.J. watched him depart before jumping down and walking over to Tristan, who was still kneeling on the ground. He reached down a gloved hand, and Tristan reluctantly took it, allowing J.J. to pull him to his feet. J.J. glanced away from him towards the keep.

"We should probably follow them," he said. "At least now we can look arou-!"

As J.J. turned back around, Tristan's fist collided with his cheek, stunning him as he was knocked to the ground. Although J.J. had been hit much harder before, he hadn't expected to be sucker-punched by his ally, and he was left momentarily dazed. Shaking his head, he looked up at Tristan, who was looming over him, seeming absolutely livid.

"You have shamed and dishonored me, page," Tristan growled to him. "Did I not warn you not to interfere with my duel?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm really sorry I saved your life!" J.J. snapped in return as he pushed himself to his feet. "If I hadn't stepped in, you'd be dead right now!"

"And now I must live with the stain of dishonor," Tristan replied, looking away from him. His shoulders were trembling with rage as he looked away. "I must settle my blood feud with Sir Agnar on my own. I shall track him down and demand that he duel me once more, on fair terms. Do not dare pursue me."

Before J.J. could respond, the knight walked over and scooped his mace and then his battered shield off the ground. He coldly examined it for a moment before strapping it to his left arm and charging into the keep after Agnar, leaving J.J. staring after him wordlessly. A few moments later, he heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Ed approaching.

"That was… something," Ed commented. "Does this happen often around here?"

"More than it should," J.J. sighed. "Come on, this has been a bust. We should get you back up to the surface."

"Nuh-uh," Ed said, shaking his head. "We've already come this far, and I'm willing to bet that keep has the treasures I've been looking for. Besides, I need to get my Pupil back."

"When it's in a 'kill all humans' mode?" J.J. asked skeptically, unable to keep from smirking behind his helmet. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Hey, if you're going in after two knights that're looking to kill _you_ right now, I can go after my equipment," Ed said stubbornly.

"Well… you have a point there," J.J. admitted, chuckling despite himself. He opened and closed his jaw beneath his helmet to make sure it wasn't broken, and then he squared his shoulders and turned towards the looming keep. "Alright then. Stay behind me and don't touch anything," he said. He shifted back into his Adventurer's Class before holding his sword out in front of him as the two slowly made their way up the front steps of the mansion and entered the darkened keep.


	29. Session 29

**Session 29**

The great hall of Quintus' manor was, thankfully, more brightly lit than the exterior. Sconces lined the walls, each one holding a long, thin length of glowing yellow crystal that provided about as much light as a low-wattage lightbulb. Hanging above them was an ornate chandelier that was similarly studded with yellow crystals, illuminating the dilapidated decorations of the hall.

Two long rows of tables situated parallel to each other dominated the majority of the floorspace in the hall. The ancient wood was still holding up, though the tables were quite worn down as centuries of insect damage, water, and warping had taken their toll. Between the rows of tables was a long, faded, threadbare rug that looked as if it had once been a fine Arabian or Oriental creation.

Towards the north side of the room was a raised dais, upon which rested yet another table. Sitting in the center of the table was an ornate wooden throne with faded blue cushions. A half-dozen wooden chairs flanked the throne on either side, reserved for the honored guests that Lord Quintus would have entertained.

The walls were painted in alternating stripes of blue and white, and between the sconces were heraldic shields that J.J. suspected were the arms of the families that had sworn themselves to the lord. He briefly wondered which of the arms belonged to Tristan, or whether his family was too low-ranking to bear them. Behind the throne was a white shield larger than the others, emblazoned with a blue hand surrounded by six blue stars – the personal arms of Lord Quintus.

The main emotion that the manor evoked was not awe or wonder, but pity. J.J. would have loved to have seen this place in its heyday, but as it was, the manor was a shadow of its former glory. The hall was well-kept and relatively free of dust – likely due to Agnar's upkeep of the place, if he was indeed living here – but the room was bare. Hollow, even, might have been the better term. There were no dishes or candles to indicate that the hall had been used in hundreds of years, when this room would have once been the epicenter of feasts and parties. Of course, it wasn't as though Agnar would have had many opportunities to hold feasts, but it bespoke how lonely the man's life was. He was dwelling in a cavern deep below a city that was far beyond his time, in the ruin of a manor that he was desperately trying to preserve as the last shred of his connection to his previous life. It was hardly any wonder that he wanted to see Almencia returned to its former glory, if this was his daily reminder of how much he had lost.

"Nothing of value here, is there?" Ed's voice came from behind J.J., snapping him out of his musings. He glanced behind him to see the treasure hunter glancing around curiously before frowning as he realized that there were no treasures to be found.

"Not unless you want a ruined thousand-year-old rug, or you think you can get that throne back up the surface," J.J. replied drily.

"We should keep moving, then," Ed said. "It's likely that we'll find the lord's personal effects-"

"Upstairs, in his living quarters. Unless you want to check the kitchen behind the screens passage for silverware," J.J. interrupted. Ed stared at him, surprised, and J.J. couldn't help but grin behind his mask as he shrugged. "What? I'm a fantasy writer. Of course I know the basic layout of a manor house. You think I'd write about a subject I wasn't familiar with?"

"Right… in that case, we should make our way to-" Ed began, but a clattering noise in the kitchen caught their attention. J.J. immediately dropped into a fencing stance and pushed Ed gently behind him to protect him as the sounds of a scuffle drew nearer.

A pair of bodies burst through the wooden opening into the kitchen. In the modest light of the crystals, J.J. recognized the familiar shape of a Shard tangled up with something J.J. had never seen before. It was a humanoid figure, but it looked like it was made of liquid pewter. Its "face" was blank, save for a computer chip lodged in the center of its head, with a blinking red dot off to the right side which looked eerily like an eye. The rest of its body was thin and flexible, and it almost seemed to glide on a pair of needle-like legs. Its arms were long and whip-like, and ended in sharp points that it was furiously jabbing into the rocky body of the Shard.

To the crystalline monster's credit, the attacks didn't seem to bother it. Though its stony flesh was being chipped apart, it pressed its attack, swinging its club-like left hand at the metallic monster's face. The attack collided with the side of the doll's head, denting the metal inward, but the android seemed unaffected as the liquid metal quickly repaired itself.

J.J. watched the fight, transfixed, as he kept himself between Ed and the two combatants. The most chilling thing about the fight was that, other than the occasional screech of crystal or stone on metal, it was completely silent. Neither fighter made a sound as they bashed and stabbed at each other, grappling with one another as they tried to dismantle the other.

In a morbid way, J.J. was almost rooting for the Shard, though maybe that was because he didn't want to have to face an unknown opponent if he didn't have to. The Shard kept slamming its crystal limb into the metal creature's torso, but each dent that it made was immediately repaired. Meanwhile, the light damage that was being inflicted on the Shard was slowly piling up. The thin needle-like arms of the metallic creature kept chipping away at the Shard's left shoulder, until abruptly, its arm fell to the ground. The Shard paused in its swing to glance blankly down at its detached limb, and the metal beast took advantage of this to begin doing the same to its right arm.

J.J. began slinking towards the dais, gently nudging Ed along while keeping his attention on the fight in front of him. The Shard was still tirelessly bashing the metal creature with its remaining arm, but the attacks were becoming slower as the damage accumulated. Finally, the other arm fell too, though that didn't stop the Shard. It began trying to headbutt its opponent, but the metal creature ruthlessly pushed its arms through the Shard's face. In moments, the Shard had collapsed into a pile of dust at the drone's feet.

The strange creature didn't pause for more than a moment after the Shard was defeated. It swung around and noticed J.J. trying to sneak past it, and it immediately scuttled towards him next. Swearing under his breath, J.J. immediately dove in, swinging his saber upward to parry a lunging thrust from the drone. To his surprise, his blade effortlessly cleaved through its metallic limb, and the severed arm clattered across the ground a few feet away. The drone paused to look down at its arm for a moment, before simply re-growing it and continuing its advance.

"I feel like I've seen this in a movie before," J.J. hissed as he stepped back to avoid a quick stab from the monster. He cut through its arm again and counterattacked with a short slash. His sword caught the creature in the neck, and to his shock, he decapitated it cleanly. Its head went clattering across the ground before lying still while the body fell limply to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. J.J. stared at it in horror for a moment before letting out a slow breath and straightening up to go join Ed. Before he could, however, the head suddenly extended short, mercurial, spider-like legs, and it scuttled towards its limp body. Within seconds, the metal had melted together to reform its body, and it was back on its feet and gliding towards him again.

J.J. growled to himself as the creature advanced, and he held his sword out to parry its next attack. To his surprise, it suddenly lunged in, too fast for him to counter, and one of its arms stabbed into his right bicep. He let out a cry of pain, but while he felt the attack, his armor held, so it was like being stabbed with a nail that had been stopped by silk – the impact hurt, and it might leave a bruise, but it didn't break the fabric or his skin.

Looking up, his eyes fell on the blinking red light of the processor in the center of the android's face. If its body was rendered inert when separated from the head, but the head could still move in some fashion, then destroying the microprocessor was clearly the solution. At least that was easy, he thought sardonically. He'd been worried that he would have to completely disassemble this thing.

J.J. stepped back and sliced at the monster's head, but it reared out of the way to avoid the attack. That basically confirmed it, J.J. thought. It hadn't bothered protecting the rest of its body the way it was guarding its head. As it swayed away from him, J.J. stepped forward throwing out a vertical slash that the monster managed to slip away from, and J.J.'s sword bit into the soft metal of its shoulder. The liquid metal began closing around his blade, and he hastily yanked it out of its body, growling to himself. One of the arms stabbed at him, but J.J. rotated his shoulder to avoid the attack. With it overextended like this, he had a clear shot. Drawing his sword back one more time, he thrusted towards its face, and this time finally hit his mark. His sword neatly bisected the computer chip, and the red light instantly went dark. The body remained upright for a second or two before clanging unceremoniously to the ground and lying still.

J.J. slowly exhaled, catching his breath as he coldly checked himself for wounds. Aside from the sharp pain in his right arm, he hadn't been badly hurt, and he could ignore that light bruise. His eyes fell on the mechanical hominid. In his opinion, the Shards were more of a threat, as they tended to fight more aggressively, and consequently did more damage. However, the strange constructs were definitely more durable, with their sole weakness being far harder to hit. Not that he wanted to fight either of them, he mused grimly.

"Are you alright?" Ed asked, hurrying over to him. J.J. nodded, raising and lowering his arm to make sure it wasn't going to hinder him.

"I'll live. Just a light bruise," he said. Then his voice turned slightly suspicious. "Are these things extra mining equipment you brought along or something?"

"Well… yes, but I've never seen them this aggressive before," Ed admitted. "The Irise creates them to help it with some of its tasks, but I've never known them to be fighters."

"Well, it doesn't seem like they like me," J.J. said with a slight smile behind his helmet. As long as he didn't have to work harder to protect Ed, he could deal with at least a few of the robots. "Are you sure you don't want to head back up to the surface?"

"Of course not," Ed said stubbornly, frowning at him. J.J. sighed, but nodded tolerantly. "Let's get moving, shall we?" the treasure hunter added. "I want to see more of this manor."

The pair stepped around the prone body of the android and walked towards the dais, which they climbed onto before heading past it towards the back rooms. The area was dominated by a stone staircase leading to the upper and lower levels of the manor. Some servants' quarters were off to either side, but J.J. was disinclined to explore them, and Ed seemed to share his thoughts.

"To the master's chambers, then?" Ed suggested, nodding towards the staircase.

J.J. paused, holding up his hand. He could feel rumbling beneath his feet, as if there was something going on in a lower level. He strained to hear, but even in the quiet manor he couldn't make out anything, and a couple of moments later the rumbling stopped.

"Hm. Yeah, but be careful," J.J. insisted. "Let me head up first."

Ed nodded, and the two crept up the stairs, J.J. brandishing his sword in front of him as he led the way. He warily peeked over the edge of the stairwell when he reached the top, but when there was no movement, he relaxed slightly, though he still gripped his sword tightly. He motioned for Ed to follow him as he finished climbing the stairs and emerged into Lord Quintus' living quarters.

The first thing J.J. noticed was the large blue bed pushed up against the back wall of the quarters. Its woolen sheets were faded and thin, but otherwise looked to be in good condition, and J.J. figured that it had been used recently, given the lack of dust. Agnar must have been living in this room far more than the great hall, he determined.

His eyes then fell on the long table that was pressed against one of the walls. It reminded J.J. strongly of a stereotypical wizard's workbench, complete with glowing blue crystals, a mortar and pestle, an alembic, and a yellowed book that was splayed open. Next to the bench was a bookshelf full of books that J.J. could see were written in both Latin and Almencian, though he couldn't discern any particular title from here.

Against the wall behind the benches were shelves and chests filled to the brim with alchemical ingredients and materials. Dried herbs, metals, stones, and various other paraphernalia haphazardly littered the shelves with no regard to organization or categorization. Perhaps it had made sense to Lord Quintus, he thought wryly.

Ed let out a low whistle as he followed J.J. up the stairs, immediately eyeing the shelves. "Now that's more like it," he muttered as he hurried over to inspect the artifacts.

"Don't take anything," J.J. warned him. "The last thing I need is Agnar coming after me because you stole something from him."

"Don't you hate that guy, though?" Ed asked airily.

"Yeah, and the feeling is mutual, but I don't need to give him yet another reason," J.J. said bitingly as he walked over to the workbench. Ed ignored him and began to eagerly peruse the shelves.

Despite his warning to Ed not to touch anything, J.J. headed right for the bookshelf and hypocritically began pawing through it. He didn't speak Latin – though he had taken a bit of Spanish in high school, so the language wasn't totally incomprehensible to him – and his knowledge of Almencian was only slightly better. Thus, most of the titles were borderline gibberish to him. However, he did know the Almencian words for "alchemy" and "magic," and that was what he centered his search on.

Surprisingly, few of the books contained the word "alkaimia" in their title, nor were there any obvious variations that caught his eye. One or two did feature it, but when he pulled them out and looked them over, the books seemed to be more about the general history of alchemy than Almencia's specific history. After a few minutes of looking, he gave up and instead wandered over to the workbench.

The table, to his surprise, also looked recently used. Dust had been cleared off its surface, there was condensation inside the alembic, the burn marks beneath the brazier were new, and the mortar contained traces of fresh ingredients. Was Agnar dabbling in alchemy? J.J. hadn't figured he had any knowledge of it. Was he making a potion perhaps, or was he trying to research something?

J.J.'s eyes fell on the book on the workbench. Its yellowed pages were so delicate that he was hesitant to move them, but he was nevertheless unable to resist looking it over. Once again, he cursed his limited knowledge of Almencian and made a silent promise to ask Tristan to work with him on studying the language more thoroughly. Nevertheless, after stumbling over the words, he realized that he was reading Quintus' personal notebook.

To J.J.'s delight, he soon discovered that the book was a combination of a diary and a manual for Quintus' discoveries. His gloved hands gently pushed it to the first page, and he began reading about Quintus accepting his appointment as the court alchemist after his own apprenticeship under his father had ended. His first invention was a serum that could purify fouled water in minutes, though he mentioned having a difficult time producing it in quantities that could treat more than a pitcher at a time.

J.J. skipped several pages, trying to get to the first mention of the Seraphs. Thankfully, Quintus' entries were accompanied by sketches similar to those in his diary, so even with his limited skill in Almencian, he knew what the contents were.

However, when he reached the end of the book, he realized that he hadn't seen anything about the Seraphs. Frowning, he flipped to the first page again and took a bit more time reading the entries to see if he had overlooked anything. It quickly became evident, however, that what he was looking for just wasn't in there. Maybe Quintus had devoted a separate volume to them, or maybe someone had intentionally removed the pages so that the creation of the Seraphs couldn't be replicated. Either way, there was nothing in the book that was going to be helpful.

Sighing, J.J. dejectedly flipped to the last page, scowling at the final entry. It was something about a crown that he was making, working in conjunction with… alchemical jewels? J.J. paused and re-read that line more carefully, speaking the Almencian words that he knew out loud to himself.

" _Crown of Almencia… of mine… use… jewels… from alchemy… bring… people hopes… best creation. Will answer king request…."_

J.J. couldn't make out much else, but he likewise noticed that there were notes in the margin that looked like they were written by someone else, particularly as they were written in black ink instead of the blue that Quintus seemed to favor.

" _Need more… perfect jewels… imperfect not enough… number? …citizens store… in chamber… under earth… sealed… remember… 26404."_

J.J.'s eyes lit up when he saw the number, and he clicked his sword down into its pen form to copy it down, since he suspected it was important. It reminded him of someone leaving a password to a computer lying around, which brought a slight smile to his face. Even a thousand years later, people were still making the same mistakes, he thought wryly.

Heavy footfalls interrupted his thoughts, and both he and Ed turned towards the staircase, with the latter shrinking away while J.J. stepped in front of him, holding his sword out in front of him. To his relief, however, it was Tristan who emerged, breathing heavily as he turned to face J.J. and Ed. He lowered his chin slightly, emphasizing his displeasure.

"Why… are you… here, page?" Tristan asked coldly as he caught his breath. J.J. noticed that his armor had a couple more scratches on it, though he wondered if it was because he had run into Agnar or he had been fighting off those metallic dolls.

"Did… you forget why we came down here in the first place?" J.J. asked, frowning behind his helmet. "I was looking for something that would help us learn about the Seraphs."

"Indeed? Have you found… something, then?" Tristan asked.

"Not yet, though I did find something of interest. Do you know anything about a crown that Quintus was making?" J.J. asked.

Tristan tilted his head querulously. "The one who would have forged a crown would be the goldsmith, or possibly my father if King Domitius wished for an iron crown. I know nothing of it. What piqued your interest?"

"It was in this book," J.J. said. "It looks like Quintus' notes. Mind taking a look at it? Almencian is your native language, and I'm a little shaky on what it says, but it mentioned something about alchemical jewels. This crown might be connected to the Seraphs in the same way if the jewels are actually D-formers-"

"Page, I have already expressed my distaste for supposition without evidence," Tristan cut him off. "Did you find anything definitive that could expose a weakness in the Seraphs?"

"Not exactly, no," J.J. admitted. "But-!"

"If you have found nothing, then I require your assistance," Tristan interrupted. "I attempted to engage Sir Agnar once more, but he fled from me and barricaded himself behind a thick metal door that appears to lead to a sort of vault. I have been unable to penetrate it."

"Seriously?" J.J. asked skeptically. "I thought Azuron was the strongest metal Almencia invented. If you keep chipping away at it, I don't see how any door could hold up."

"Nor I," Tristan admitted. "Yet it hinders my efforts to finish my duel with Sir Agnar. Since you already sullied my honor," he added, his tone turning frosty, "you may at least partially redeem yourself by aiding me in opening it."

J.J. gazed at Tristan, before speaking in a soothing voice. "If Agnar's locked himself in a vault, he's not going anywhere. Why not take a little time to rest while you have the chance? Do you think you could read this passage in the book here? Your Almencian's better than mi-!"

J.J. was again interrupted when Tristan crossed the distance between them and grabbed him by the front of his jerkin, dragging him so that he was inches from Tristan and peering into the azure faceplate of his helmet. "I do not have the luxury of rest," Tristan growled. "I merely speculated that Sir Agnar has taken refuge in a vault; I am uncertain if that is indeed its function. If there is a passage back to the surface, he will escape, and my ven- my honor will not be satisfied. As I said, you are the one who sullied my honor by denying me a satisfying conclusion to my duel. Now, accompany me. Immediately."

J.J. bit back a retort along the lines of, _"Yeah, really sorry I saved your life_." All that would do would earn him another punch to the face, at best. Instead, he took hold of Tristan's hands and gently extricated them from his armor. "Alright, calm down," he said easily. "If Agnar got through that door, there's got to be a way in. Let's go take a look." He glanced over his shoulder at Ed and added, "Mind coming with us?"

"Of course," Ed agreed, setting down the piece of topaz he'd been playing with. "Even if it wasn't for safety, there's no way I'm passing up the chance to poke through a vault. There's gotta be some valuable stuff in there, right?"

J.J. rolled his eyes as he motioned for Tristan to lead the way. The blue-armored knight guided them down the stairs and into the main foyer again, before turning to head down another set of stairs that lead to a lower level. They walked in silence for a few moments, before J.J. spoke up.

"You're really worked up about this," J.J. commented lightly. "What gives?"

"This is a matter of honor, page," Tristan said shortly.

"You keep saying that, but there seems to be something more behind it," J.J. insisted. "I get that you're angry that he might have killed your brother, but-"

"You do not understand at all, then," Tristan said harshly, looking over his shoulder briefly before turning back around. "I shall endeavor to explain. When I was placed in stasis, I did so with the understanding that when I next awoke, the world that I knew and everyone in it would be gone. It was difficult, but I eventually made my peace with that. Seeing the bones of my father was what convinced me that there was no connection to my past remaining.

"Yet, when Sir Agnar reappeared, my hope was renewed. If I was no longer the only one who had been placed in stasis, perhaps others had been as well. Perhaps even my brother had managed to survive, and I might have one last thread linking me to my old life. However, when Sir Agnar told me he was a servant of the Black Seraph, I was… disappointed. I even despaired, for a former friend had turned traitor. And his story… everything that I had worked for, to save Almencia… it was all for nothing. Then he told me that he had slain my brother. Murdered him in cold blood. My mother had perished during the first war with the Black Seraph. My father's bones I had already seen. And then Sir Agnar presented me with my brother's D-former, proof that my final link to my past had been severed."

Tristan turned to face him, his voice shaking slightly with barely suppressed rage. "Sir Agnar robbed me of my last shred of hope. I had hoped that Almencia would survive, yet it was left in ruins, and Sir Agnar did nothing to avert it, even making our enemy stronger than ever. I had hoped that I might once again meet just one member of my family, yet Sir Agnar personally slew him and kept his jewel as a trophy. Only his life will give me satisfaction, for all that he robbed me of, and for betraying what we once stood for."

J.J. tried to formulate a response, but before he could, Tristan reached the bottom of the stairs and motioned towards something in front of him. J.J. followed him, and as he saw what Tristan was motioning towards, he let out a low whistle. A massive golden door loomed over them, its bright surface glowing faintly as the yellow crystals on the wall behind them reflected off its mirror finish. In the center of the door was an enormous five-ringed dial with pictures on individual rings, as well as a four-foot long handle. J.J. was strongly reminded of a bank vault.

"How exactly did he close this thing if you were right behind him?" J.J. asked, approaching the door and putting his hand on it gently. The golden surface seemed to hum slightly under his touch, as if it was vibrating. "Even in his armor, I doubt even he could have closed something this heavy very easily, especially if you were right on his heels."

"I was pursuing him down these stairs when I heard him ask if I would assist him in defending something. I responded that there was nothing he could say that would convince me to aid him, at which point I heard a loud clanging sound, and when I finished my descent, I was met with this door," Tristan explained. "I have tried numerous methods to breach it, yet nothing has affected it."

"What about a Critical?" J.J. suggested.

"That was one of the first methods I attempted once my initial assault upon the door failed. My attack was… reflected upon me. I felt as though I had taken the full force of my own Critical," Tristan explained.

J.J. stared at Tristan, curiosity welling up inside of him. He snapped his fingers, and his quill flew into his hand. Once extended into its sword form, he attacked the door with a short slash, putting a moderate amount of power behind the blow. As soon as the blade hit the surface of the door, his arm was flung backward with an equal amount of force, and he was nearly thrown off-balance. Tristan shook his head as J.J. stared down at his arm.

"Why did you insist on validating my claims?" Tristan asked, exasperated.

"I wanted to see for myself," J.J. replied nonchalantly.

Tristan growled softly, and J.J. could feel him glaring from behind his helmet. J.J. grinned a bit to himself before growing more serious as he began to inspect the door. "Have you tried moving the dial?"

"Without a combination? No," Tristan replied. "If you examine the walls more closely, you will understand why."

J.J. turned towards one of the walls and noticed for the first time that there were holes between the mortar. "Are those… darts or something?" he asked.

"Precisely. Vaults of this sort were often designed with traps to eliminate those that would attempt to breach them. After all, if there is no consequence for an incorrect response, thieves may try as many times as they wish until they reach the proper conclusion," Tristan explained.

"Oh, good, glad to know Almencians lived by adventure game logic," J.J. said drily. "Just let me quicksave here in case we get this wrong."

Tristan gave J.J. a perplexed look. J.J. simply shook his head and sighed as he began to examine the pictures on the dials. "How would we input a part of the combination?" J.J. asked.

"Simply press the button in once you believe you have the correct answer," Tristan said, frowning. "Are you attempting this without a combination? That is… brash, especially for you."

"I might have an idea about how to open it, though," J.J. replied.

"If… you believe you know the answer, I shall not hinder you," Tristan said cautiously. "However, I must warn you that even with your suit, you may not be able to withstand a full barrage of arrows. Even my own armor would likely only barely withstand one or two errors."

"Then you should step back out of the room, Ed," J.J. suggested. Ed nodded and crept back up the stairs as J.J. stared at the dial.

The buttons on the rings consisted of pictures rather than numbers or letters. Each one was a different animal – a fox, a rabbit, a snake, a bird… Furthermore, each dial had a different set of animals, so J.J. couldn't discern any sort of pattern. For instance, one ring had an eagle, a frog, a beetle, a fish, and a squid, while another ring had a fox, an owl, a bee, a snail, and an octopus.

"The book upstairs mentioned numbers…." J.J. muttered to himself, pulling out his diary and flipping to the latest page. On it were the numbers he had written down – 26404. In J.J.'s mind, given the context, they were clearly a combination, and he suspected that it was to this door… but what was the connection?

J.J. looked up again and examined the door more closely, slowly turning each ring. What was different about each of the animals? The species? Some were winged, while others weren't? If the number of wings varied-!

Suddenly, J.J. began to spin each dial in turn, examining each one. If he considered the attributes of the animals, he realized that each one had a different number of legs, and that the number of legs didn't repeat within a ring. One ring had an animal with two, four, six, eight, and ten legs, while another was zero, two, four, eight, and ten. If he thought about it that way, and he used the combination that Agnar had written down…!

J.J. grinned to himself as he turned the first dial until it was resting on the picture of a hawk, the only creature on the dial that he could assume had two legs – he didn't count the wings, since there was also a cow, which obviously had four legs. The second dial he turned to the picture of a beetle, while the third he spun until it stopped on the picture of a cat. The fourth dial was the picture of a snake, while the fifth dial nearest to the center was a fox. J.J. confidently pushed each button in turn down the line, then stepped back as the sound of tumblers unlocking filled the room with a loud clanging sound. He walked over to the door handle and pulled it, and after a moment's effort, the door began to give way.

Tristan and Ed came up behind him, Ed slapping him on the back while Tristan stared at him, as if in shock. "How… did you know the proper combination?" he asked.

"A little bit of guesswork, honestly," J.J. admitted. "But there was also a book upstairs that had the combination written down, in a way. We got lucky, though, since we went upstairs first and happened to stumble across it. There's no way you could have known that the answer was up there."

"No… though I suppose that I should be more aware of my surroundings," Tristan admitted, sounding slightly crestfallen.

"You were distracted by Agnar, and again, it was a coincidence that we happened to find it. Hell, the only reason why I copied down the number is that it's an old gaming habit," J.J. admitted. "If someone leaves a number like that lying around, it's bound to be important."

"Intriguing. Well done, page," Tristan said absently, his voice hardening again. "I would request that you do not interfere from this point on, then, as I challenge Sir Agnar."

"Tristan…!" J.J. cried, but Tristan had already wrenched the door open the rest of the way and was charging inside. J.J. sighed and glanced over at Ed, who shrugged and hurried in after Tristan. J.J. noted that the man seemed to be enjoying himself, despite the danger he was in.

"At least one of us is having a good time," J.J. muttered as he ran after the other two. The vault door led into a narrow hallway, which opened into a large cavern. J.J.'s first thought was that he had walked into a crypt. The room was bathed in a deep red glow from the scarlet crystals lining the ceiling above them. Oblong rectangles that vaguely reminded J.J. of coffins were standing along the walls, each one studded with precious gems that formed a latticework of bright lines, between which shimmered holographic panes that looked like force fields. In the center of the room stood Agnar, furiously swinging his sword at another of the metallic dolls which had somehow found its way into the mausoleum. The draconic's knight massive sword tore through the creature's torso effortlessly, but its liquid body quickly repaired itself and it swung a flail-like limb at Agnar in retaliation. The red knight blocked the blow, but its flexible limb arched around his sword to collide with his shoulder. If it hurt, the knight didn't show any signs of pain. Grunting, he cleaved the doll, bisecting it vertically. That attack, by happenstance, cut through its processor, and the body of the creature clattered lifelessly to the ground. Agnar sighed before turning to face the intruders.

"Sir Tristan!" Agnar exclaimed, sounding pleased. Then his eyes fell on the two men behind him, and he added in a much more dispirited tone, "Peasant. Thief."

"Traitor," Tristan replied coldly. "You retreated and barricaded yourself in this room after goading me? Must I accuse you of lacking honor now, when you have slandered me with that charge several times in the past weeks? You continue to refuse to answer my challenges."

"There are… mitigating circumstances," Agnar said slowly, looking away. "While I would happily answer your challenge normally, in this case, I must concede that the peasant was correct – the defense of my stronghold comes first, particularly since we are facing a foe that might legitimately threaten something that is more important to me than answering a challenge to an honor duel."

"And what might that be?" Tristan sneered.

"This," Agnar said, sweeping his arm around the room at the coffins, before pinning Ed under his gaze. "You, thief. You claimed you were looking for treasure, were you not? This is it. This is the greatest treasure to me, which is why I keep it locked safely in these chambers. And now it is under attack from an enemy that has threatened to take it from me. To that end, defending it is of paramount importance, surpassing even my duty to answer a challenge to my honor."

"By threat, you mean those metallic dolls?" J.J. asked.

"Indeed," Agnar replied. "It would seem that metallic monstrosity the thief brought with him possesses the ability to create minions out of mere scraps of metal. I have seen it myself – it needs only place a small eye upon a bar of iron, or any other metal, to have a doll that it may command. What's more, their liquid nature has allowed them to penetrate even the security of this chamber, as you saw. To that end… I must request a truce. Until these invaders are repelled from my castle, I must ask that we postpone our duel."

"And why would I agree to those terms?" Tristan hissed.

"For one, because I have shown you the same courtesy numerous times," Agnar replied coolly. "Rationalize it as you like, but I have permitted you to postpone our duel repeatedly because you requested it. I would hope you would show me the same courtesy. But, for another, because it is your duty as a knight."

"My duty as a knight?" Tristan echoed, scoffing. "How dare you speak of my duty?"

"Your duty, Sir Tristan, is to protect the citizens of Almencia," Tristan explained, sweeping his arm around the room once again. "That is what is contained in this vault. Each of these caskets contains an Almencian citizen who was placed into stasis before the island was completely consumed by the fires of war."

Tristan stared at him, dumbstruck, and J.J. likewise felt his mouth fall open. "Have you never wondered why I spent the majority of my time in these ruins, Sir Tristan?" Agnar asked in a much softer tone. "I was searching for these survivors. Over the past few months, I have managed to find roughly a dozen, and I believe there are more to be found. Do you not understand, Sir Tristan? This is our chance to rebuild our society! With these settlers, and the Black Seraph's alchemy, we can ensure that Almencia is restored! It shall take time, but it can be accomplished!"

Tristan was silent, seeming almost numb with shock. J.J. was also reeling from Agnar's revelation, but he had enough presence of mind to snap out of it when he heard something moving behind him. Ed let out a shriek of terror and stumbled backwards, and J.J. turned to see another liquid golem rushing towards them.

Tristan was standing closer to Ed, and J.J. was worried he couldn't get there in time. "Tristan! Ed's in trouble!" he cried.

"Deceiver! You seek to distract me!" Tristan cried, ignoring J.J., as he pointed a finger at Agnar. "My duty, Sir Agnar, is to exact vengeance. Furthermore, I have no proof of your claims, and even if I did, I would never aid such a-!"

J.J. growled and pushed past Tristan hurrying to help Ed. He was too slow, however, and the doll ducked low and stabbed forward with one of its needle-like limbs. Ed screamed in pain as it pierced his leg, and the doll quickly withdrew its arm to try and stab him again. J.J. slipped between Ed and the monster, slashing horizontally with a quick flick of his wrist. The initial attack missed the processor, but his blade did remove the head from the golem's body. It clattered across the floor, and before the severed head had time to try and scurry back to its body, J.J. drove his blade through the computer chip, which went dead after sparking for a moment.

J.J. hurried over to Ed, who groaned and pressed his hand to his bleeding thigh. "It's… not bad," he grunted. J.J. briefly pulled his hand away, and to his relief, the doll didn't seem to have hit any veins or arteries, since the blood seeping from his wound was spreading slowly. He grabbed Ed's shirt sleeve and yanked it. The fabric came loose easily thanks to his suit's considerable strength, and he pressed it to Ed's leg, saying softly to the man, "Hold that there. I thought these things weren't supposed to attack you?"

"Maybe it got confused," Ed explained, wincing. "If the Irise is looking for you guys, it might have given that command to its dolls, but the dolls are kinda stupid. I once asked it to move stones out of the way, and I had to tell the dolls to stop throwing rocks at me," he said with a sheepish grin.

J.J. scowled, then looked up and addressed Tristan. "Tristan, Ed's hurt. We should get him to the surface."

"You take him, then, page," Tristan growled. "I will not be denied my vengeance a second time. In fact, I would rather you were not here to distract me, nor to sully my honor further."

There was another rumbling sound beneath them, and J.J. heard the faint whirring of machinery under his feet. Then came a sharp, metallic screeching sound and the drilling stopped. The sounds slowly moved away from them, and the tremors gradually ceased. Agnar looked down at the ground before looking up at Tristan again and shaking his head.

"Sir Tristan, I cannot answer your challenge while my demesne is threatened," he said. "Furthermore, a second duel between us now would merely result in your death. If you feel your honor was sullied in the last battle, regain it by serving your country."

"I shall decide how I regain my honor!" Tristan shouted, pointing his mace at Agnar. "The only way is when your head lies at my feet!"

"Tristan," J.J. said softly.

"Nor do I believe your claims that you are merely protecting the survivors of Almencia!" Tristan added, ignoring J.J. "If you truly cared, you would not have slain my brother! I-!"

"Tristan!" J.J. shouted over the knight, causing him to spin around, his shoulders heaving with fury.

" _What?!_ " Tristan screamed at him.

"What was your oath as a knight?" J.J. asked softly, in stark contrast to Tristan's bellowing. Tristan hesitated, seeming confused by the question. "When you first swore your vows as a knight, what were they?" he pressed.

Tristan hesitated. "They were-"

"I seriously doubt that exacting vengeance was at the top of the list," J.J. interrupted him, pressing the torn sleeve a bit harder into Ed's wound to try and staunch the bleeding. "As far as I'm aware, every knightly oath in history has centered around protecting those weaker than you. Isn't that what you swore?"

"You fail to understand the nature of a blood feud, page," Tristan began. "It-"

"Okay, forget your oath as a knight," J.J. interrupted. "What about your oath as a Kamen Rider? You're the one that took the title of Kamen Rider Aegis. According to Susumu, Kamen Riders are supposed to protect people, not use their powers to exact revenge. Plus, last I checked, an aegis is a shield. Shields can be used as weapons, sure, but their primary function is to defend. You don't hear about someone protecting others by crouching behind a sword.

"I honestly thought that was an apt name for you, you know. You sacrificed a thousand years just to protect a people you didn't know from a threat they couldn't face. I really thought of you as a true hero, in every sense of the word, and I admired you for that. Now, though, all I see is an angry, bitter man who's so consumed by a half-baked quest for vengeance that he's completely forgotten why he agreed to be put into stasis in the first place."

Tristan slowly advanced on J.J., seething with rage, but J.J. didn't flinch. "You dare-!"

"You're damn right I do," J.J. replied simply. "Look around you. You're literally surrounded by the people you were sworn to protect – all of them utterly defenseless and about to be attacked – and yet you're still only focused on killing Agnar. Even he's behaving more nobly than you are. I hate what he's done to the citizens of Marville, who he works for, and what he stands for, but even by trying to protect these few people, he's acting like more of a knight than you."

"We don't know if what he says is the truth!" Tristan protested. "There might not even be Almencians in those caskets!"

"That doesn't matter," J.J. said shortly. "Even if he's lying, you've already failed to protect someone who needed it. Ed got hurt because you didn't defend him. That was your failing, Tristan. If you're so blinded by hatred that you can't even save someone standing right beside you, then you don't deserve to call yourself a knight or a Kamen Rider."

Tristan looked down at Ed silently for several long moments as the man grit his teeth in pain. Thankfully, J.J. could already tell he wasn't losing much blood, but he still needed to be taken to a hospital as soon as he could. Finally, Tristan let out an irritated sigh and looked over his shoulder at Agnar.

"We… must retreat for now," he said reluctantly.

"If you must, but I wish to ask one last time for your aid," Agnar pleaded. "I have not lied to you. These coffins contain the last Almencians I could find, and while I am certain that I could defeat that metal abomination, I am unsure about whether I could do so while protecting these people at the same time. You were always better at defending than I was, which is why I now beg for your assistance. Do not forsake them. If you shall not fight with me, fight for them."

J.J. and Tristan traded looks, and then J.J. looked down at Ed. "Do you think you can stand?" he asked softly.

"I… could try, but I really don't want to put weight on this leg," Ed grunted. He was pale and sweating from the pain, though he was thankfully staying conscious. "Look, make your stand here. I'll be alright. Even if we ran, I'd just slow you down. The Irise might just come after you anyways, and I'd be in the way. Plus, I don't think it'll attack me."

"That metallic doll did," J.J. pointed out.

"Yeah, but like I said, they can be a little unpredictable," Ed explained. "But the Irise is programmed to never hurt the person that powered it on, and even in its berserk state, I think it'll adhere to that programming."

J.J. was still hesitant, but Ed sighed and waved him off. "If there really are people in those things that need your help, I'm not going to be selfish and say you have to look after me. Do what you have to do to turn the Irise off. Destroy it if need be. It's proven to be more trouble than it's worth this trip anyways."

Even though Ed's words sounded resolved, J.J. could see from his expression that the decision pained him. He was giving up a one-of-a-kind piece of equipment that could have brought him a fortune, even if he'd just sold it. J.J. nodded once as he replied, "Right. And thank you."

"Yeah, don't mention it," Ed sighed, slumping back against a wall and closing his eyes. Since the bleeding had stopped, J.J. felt that he wouldn't be in any danger if he took a rest.

"Page," Tristan addressed him as he walked back towards the two knights. "What does the diary say about the Irise?"

"No idea," J.J. shrugged, snapping his quill down to its pen form as he flipped the diary over to a blank page. "I'm not even sure it'll give us any data, since it isn't a Diemon. Even then, I don't have a reference for a mythological creature to go off of. Maybe a beholder, but beholders don't construct suits of armor for themselves. So let's try this."

He wrote down the word "Pupil" on a blank sheet of paper, and for a several moments, his quill didn't move. Then, to his astonishment, it began to slowly scribble across the page. It was filling in the information much more slowly than it would for a Diemon, which J.J. attributed to it trying to process data from an entirely new source, but it was nevertheless giving a good readout of a Pupil's capabilities. When it was finished, it fell flat on the page, and J.J., Tristan, and Agnar crowded around to stare at the stats sheet.

"Bah! Must it write in that barbaric tongue?" Agnar scoffed.

"Better this than a dead language," J.J. shot back. "Anyways, the Pupil itself doesn't seem to be very strong. It's versatile, and it can adapt to anything that threatens it, but the 'eye' on the top of its head is its weakness. We need to go for that. We turn it off or disconnect it from its body, the rest of it becomes a heap of scrap metal."

"What about its behavior?" Tristan asked.

"It'll fulfill any task given to it, it looks like, but for whatever reason, it really seems to hate Kamen Riders," J.J. explained. "I'm willing to bet that when we beat it back the first time, it decided to fulfill its original directive – looking for treasure – while trying to repair itself so it could complete its secondary objective of killing us. That'd explain the sounds we've been hearing. When it shows back up, it's likely to be fully repaired, especially if it found other armories." He then glanced up and frowned. "Which begs the question… why don't we just leave, if it's targeting us? It'd draw the Irise away from the caskets, if you're so worried about protecting them," he suggested to Agnar.

"That monstrosity will still be drawn to this vault. If it is truly searching for treasure, the door that seals this vault is of immeasurable value, as are the components keeping the Almencians in stasis," Agnar explained. "I fear that if it attempts to pry the gemstones from the caskets, the Almencians within might perish from the shock. I will not risk that by abandoning them," he said firmly.

"Fair enough," J.J. nodded, folding his arms. "Then do you have a plan for dealing with it? You know this castle better than either of us."

"I am of the opinion that it is likely to assault us by descending from above," Agnar said thoughtfully. "This vault's walls and floors are protected by the same metal that the door is made of, but that protection does not extend to the keep above. After all, Lord Quintus' estate was meant to be guarded at all times by his household knights, so there was no reason to protect against intrusion other than tunneling. Furthermore, in the event that one was accidentally trapped in this vault, he wished there to be _some_ way to escape. The only viable entrance using brute force is from above."

"Alright, then how do we deal with it?" J.J. asked.

Agnar stared at him, and J.J. could almost picture him raising an eyebrow behind his helmet. "We?" Agnar repeated. "You have no reason to participate in this skirmish, peasant. These are not your people."

"Yeah, I really don't care whether they're 'my people' or not," J.J. replied simply. "They're people that need to be protected, so I'm going to help protect them."

Agnar gazed at J.J. silently for a few long moments, as if trying to process the statement, before shrugging. "I will not deter you if you wish to join the defense. Perhaps you might prove to be of some small use." J.J. smiled to himself. Maybe it was his imagination, but Agnar almost sounded flustered.

"You might not have to destroy the Pupil outright," Ed piped up suddenly. The trio turned to face him. J.J. was surprised to hear him speak up, as he'd thought the man had passed out. "There may be a way to shut it down without risking trashing the place."

"Elaborate," Agnar said.

Ed briefly explained his idea, while the others listened carefully. Once he had finished detailing how the Pupil worked, the three spent the next few minutes quickly hatching a plan that would hopefully allow them to disable the Irise without damaging the nearby coffins.

"Very well, this plan will suffice," Agnar said finally, looking up at the ceiling apprehensively. They could all hear the whirring of a drill above them. "And if it fails, we shall utilize force, as necessary. Assume your positions."

J.J. and Tristan nodded, with Tristan positioning himself beneath the increasingly loud whirring sound, holding his shield up towards it, while J.J. put his hand on his blue D-former and gave it a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his Driver shouted, and as a saxophone played, J.J. was enveloped in a sapphire jewel, which spun around him rapidly as his leather armor split to become a loose blue jacket, while a scarf wrapped itself around his neck. As soon as the transformation finished, J.J. backed into one of the corners, stuffing his daggers into his belt while keeping his left hand on the blue D-former. Agnar took his position opposite Tristan, his own claymore sheathed on his back.

"This… is rather nostalgic, Sir Tristan," Agnar said slowly as dust began to fall on them while they waited for the Irise to breach the ceiling. "A pity that we cannot ally with each other more often."

"Yes, a pity that you decided to ally yourself with the one you swore to destroy. And that you murdered my brother," Tristan replied coldly, not taking his eyes off the growing hole in the ceiling.

Agnar fell silent, turning his gaze to the hole above them. Moments later, the drilling stopped. There was no movement for a few seconds, and then the glaring red eye of the Irise appeared in the hole. It swiveled around rapidly, taking stock of the room, before pulling back. The three men glanced at each other, wondering what it was doing. Then, a claw appeared over the opening, holding something, which was unceremoniously dropped through the hole. Tristan stepped back and stared at the object as it bounced once on the floor before coming to a halt. The Irise had dropped a chest into the room, and as its lid popped open from the force of the drop, J.J. could see that it was filled to the brim with gleaming silver bars.

A moment later, the Irise suddenly dropped through the hole, landing over the treasure chest like a spider protecting its eggs. Its body had been repaired in the short time that they had lost sight of it, bearing no evidence that it had even been damaged. Its eye swung towards Ed lying on the floor, and the treasure hunter flinched as its pupil dilated upon recognizing him.

"PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: LOCATE VALUABLE TREASURE. OBJECTIVE COMPLETED. SECONDARY OBJECTIVE IN PROGRESS: ELIMINATE KAMEN RIDERS."

The large drill began spinning rapidly before thrusting itself at Tristan, but the blue knight was ready. He caught the drill on his shield and planted his feet, holding it in place. The Irise swung its pick arm around to strike his side, but Tristan raised his mace and caught that as well. Before its other arms could get involved, Agnar came up behind it and grabbed the remaining two metallic arms and wrenched them backwards, relying on his immense strength to restrain the automaton. The Irise's eye flickered and looked down, as if realizing that it had fallen into a trap.

"Now, page!" Tristan yelled.

J.J. had already begun moving before Tristan had spoken. His thumb ran across the blue D-former, spinning it, and a sapphire engulfed him as his Driver shouted, **"Critical!"** As the die collapsed around him, his body disappeared, and the Irise's eye swiveled wildly, trying to figure out where he had gone. J.J. sprinted towards the machine and jumped into the air, before landing lightly on top of its body. The Irise looked up, but saw nothing, and in doing so, revealed the switch that it had been protecting under its body. J.J. simply reached down and flicked the switch, before gently jumping off the machine. He smugly turned around as his Critical wore off, watching as the Irise's red eye began to dim.

"No need to trash a machine when you can just turn it off," he commented absently. Agnar and Tristan slowly released its arms as the machine powered down.

"PRIMARY… SYSTEMS… SHUTting… down," the Irise intoned slowly, the red in its eye fading. Then, moments later, it flared back up again, adding, "SECONDARY POWER SYSTEM INITIATED. PROCEEDING WITH OPERATION."

J.J. turned in time to be slammed in the side by the Irise's pick arm, letting out a cry of pain as he was thrown into a wall between two of the caskets. He was left momentarily dazed as he looked up in time to see Tristan narrowly block the drill, while Agnar was forced to grab the spade and piston arms before it could swing them around. Oddly, the two stronger knights seemed to be having a more difficult time with the Irise even though it was supposedly on backup power. Unless emergency power doubled its functionality, he thought wearily as he dazedly pushed himself to his feet.

"If we must fight this demon, then let us select a different battlefield!" Agnar shouted, his feet sliding across the ground as he grappled with the monster. "There is no need to keep it here now that the trap is sprung!"

"Some trap, if we're struggling like this," J.J. muttered. In a louder voice, he called out, "Let's toss it back upstairs and kick it into the courtyard, then!" He glanced over at Ed, adding, "Will you be alright here for a couple minutes?"

"As long as one of those dolls doesn't come after me, yeah," Ed said. "I'll keep my head down. Do what you have to."

J.J. nodded and put his hand on his red D-former, spinning it. **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** the Driver shouted, and war drums played as he was surrounded by a ruby die. While still surrounded, he lowered his shoulder and charged into the Irise, trying to knock it off-balance while he had temporary protection. Thankfully, his strength had already been increased, and he was able to tip the monster up off of two of its legs. That gave Agnar the opening he needed to finish lifting it up, with Tristan lowering his shield and grabbing it under its legs as well. J.J. added his own strength as he slipped beneath it, and the three men jumped simultaneously. They didn't get the Irise cleanly through the hole already in the ceiling, so more bits of wood and stone rained down into the vault, but they were able to carry it into the great hall. Once there, they unceremoniously tossed it into the courtyard where they could fight more freely.

As the Irise struggled to get to its feet, J.J. gave his amber D-former a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Adventurer!"** his Driver shouted, and he was briefly surrounded by an amber die as he reverted to his brown-armored form. While he usually preferred to freely change forms to adjust to a situation, in this case he felt that his base form was the best choice, given its balanced stats. The Irise had too many options available to it, and even Paladin Class would have been a touch too slow for his liking. Besides, he thought with a slight smile, when it came to power, Agnar and Tristan already outclassed him by a mile. It was best for him just to play support in this case.

The Irise finally clambered to its feet in time to see the three Riders step through the doorway side by side, with Agnar standing in the middle and J.J. and Tristan flanking him. The draconic knight drew his massive sword and pointed it at the Irise, growling, "In my time, the penalty for thievery was severing one's hand. What is it in this era, peasant?"

"Usually, we don't go that far," J.J. replied, giving his sword a little twirl. "But in this case, I think that's a fitting punishment."

"A pity, then, that there are three of us, while it possesses four arms," Tristan added, resting his mace on his shoulder. "It seems we cannot divide it evenly between us."

"Then let the best man claim the fourth," Agnar said, his voice dripping with bloodlust.

The Irise's eye flicked between the trio, opening its arms in an offensive stance. "TARGETS ACQUIRED."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," J.J. murmured. "Alea iacta est."

Tristan charged forward, holding his shield up while trying to draw the Irise's attention. The Irise brought its drill and piston arms down on him, battering at his shield with the concussive and penetrating force of its tools, but the sturdy Azuron shield held firm against the assault. The spade and picks came down to attack him, but before they could, J.J. and Agnar were at Tristan's side, catching the limbs on their respective blades. J.J. was able to knock the attack to the side, while Agnar's blow cleaved cleanly through the pick, which clattered uselessly along the stone floor.

"You are still weak, peasant!" Agnar taunted him. J.J. glared in response, and he could almost see Agnar sneering as J.J. drew his sword back and severed the Irise's other arm, gritting his teeth as he put his entire weight behind the blow. Agnar scoffed, then turned to help Tristan.

The blue knight's shield had been holding against the combined assault of the drill and piston, and without the other two arms to worry about, Tristan could go finally on the offensive. He dropped his hand to his belt and pressed the hedgehog icon. Spikes sprang from the face of his shield, and Tristan lowered his shoulder, ramming it into the body of the Irise, which scuttled backwards from the force of the attack.

Immediately, both Agnar and J.J. jumped up to attack its eye, but the machine suddenly caught their blades on its remaining limbs and threw them across the courtyard with surprising strength, though both landed on their feet. J.J. noticed that the force it had tossed them with exceeded its normal attacks; it was almost as if the machine had received a boost of adrenaline while protecting its vital areas. J.J. wondered if it usually limited how much force it put into its attacks to avoid damaging its limbs, but could remove those limiters if the core was threatened. It was surprisingly human in that way, he mused.

With the immediate threats out of the way, the Irise turned its attention to Tristan and kicked him with its forelegs. Tristan caught the blow on his shield, but he was still driven back several feet as his boots skidded along the stone floor. The machine caught its balance and scurried over to its severed limbs, which had landed near each other. It lowered its body to the ground, scooping them up with its drill and piston arms, which split to act as claws.

The trio paused to catch their breath as the Irise regarded its arms with its whirring red eye. The machine then stuck them into the severed stubs, and from the top of the Irise, small spider-like machines scuttled out and began welding the arms back on. Simultaneously, the three men groaned.

"We cannot continue like this," Agnar said, sagging slightly from exhaustion. "Let us finish this now. The diary claimed that so long as we destroy the head, the rest will fall, correct?"

"Yeah," J.J. nodded, wearily putting his hands on his knees. "But every time we try, it protects its head, so getting to it is the problem. Shutting it down didn't work, so I don't think anything short of destroying the head entirely is going to take care of it. I don't know how much longer I can keep going, though."

"I would recommend, then, that we concentrate our energy into a single attack," Tristan suggested. "Our stamina will not hold forever, and I am confident that we can overwhelm it if we strike it simultaneously."

"Bold, Sir Tristan. And dangerous," Agnar warned him. "Did you not learn from our duel the folly of putting your hopes upon a single attack?"

"I did. And I am confident we shall succeed this time," Tristan said firmly. "For it is not one attack that we are inflicting upon this foe, but three."

"Well, that's reassuring," J.J. said drily, pushing himself up wearily. "Let's do this quickly."

The Irise finished welding its arms back onto itself as the three men ran towards it. Tristan skidded to a halt in front of it, while J.J. and Agnar flanked the mechanical spider, the trio standing in a triangle around it. Its glowing red eye swiveled back and forth, trying to focus on each of them, while it held its arms out threateningly.

"REPAIRS COMPLETE. PROCEEDING WITH OBJECTIVE: ELIMINATE KAMEN RIDERS," the Irise announced.

"That is an oath you shall not be able to uphold," Tristan said, glancing at the other two as his hand dropped to his Driver. J.J. and Agnar did the same, and the trio spun their D-formers in unison.

" **Critical!"** the three Drivers shouted at the same time, and the trio were engulfed in amber, metallic blue, and vermillion jewels for a moment before their Criticals manifested in different ways. Tristan attacked first, charging forward as a holographic shield appeared in front of him. The Irise struck at him with all four arms, but they bounced off his shield harmlessly as Tristan jumped forward and extended his leg, yelling as he slammed into it with a kick that tore through the left half of its limbs.

Agnar's aura manifested around him as shimmering orange flames, and he let out a bloodthirsty yell of his own as he jumped forward in a straight kick as well. The fire burning around him seemed to propel him forward as the inferno assumed the shape of a screaming dragon's head, and when he collided with the Irise's body, the right half of its limbs were shattered in a fiery explosion.

The Irise was sent reeling, scuttling backwards on shaky legs, as J.J. took a running start and jumped into the air. The Irise turned its eye and watched helplessly as J.J. spun in midair, gathering momentum, before swinging his leg around as hard as he could while letting out a short yell. The flying roundhouse kick collided with the Pupil solidly, knocking it off its body and sending it bouncing away across the cavern until it struck the far wall of the manor, leaving cracks in the stone. As J.J. landed, he saw the amber pane of energy he implanted on it dissipate as its eye cracked, and the red light slowly dimmed.

"SYSTEMS… CRITICAL… FAILiiiing…." the Pupil muttered, its voice growing deeper and slower before it shut off completely. J.J. pulled out his diary and idly glanced down at the Pupil's entry. Its hit-point bar had finally been drained to zero, much to his relief. He let out a long, slow breath as he snapped his diary shut and dropped to one knee, looking up at the ceiling as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Alright… _that_ was a tough one," he declared. Tristan and Agnar walked over to him, with the former offering a hand to help him to his feet.

"Indeed. A worthy opponent," Agnar said. Despite his words, however, he lifted the Pupil to eye level, appraising it for a second, before unceremoniously tossing it deep into the cave. J.J. heard it bounce across the stone floor a few times before falling silent. Agnar gazed after it for a moment before turning back to J.J. and Agnar. "I must thank you for your assistance in eliminating that menace… and chastise you for bringing it to my stronghold in the first place," he growled.

"To be fair, that was… Ed…." J.J. said, trailing off and glancing towards the manor. "Right. We left him in the vault, didn't we? I should probably go get-"

"You shall remain here. You have trespassed upon my domain quite enough," Agnar interrupted. "I shall retrieve him, and then I demand that you all depart. I have much reconstruction to do."

J.J. and Tristan traded looks as Agnar disappeared into the castle. Moments later, he reappeared, carrying Ed under one arm and the treasure chest under the other. Agnar dumped the treasure hunter unceremoniously on the ground – eliciting a cry of pain from the man – and then he opened the treasure chest and placed it in front of Ed, much to J.J.'s surprise. Ed blinked at the treasure chest, then looked up at Agnar.

"What's this?" Ed asked, frowning.

"Although you assaulted my fortress, you were not at fault for losing control of that machine, so I bear you no grudge. Furthermore, however indirectly, you aided me in removing a threat to my premises. Therefore, it is my duty as a knight to reward your service. Within that chest are bars of the most valuable metal that Almencia ever produced. You may take it as your reward. Now, depart. Never set foot within this city again."

"Of… of course not!" Ed stammered, looking down at the chest as a grin slowly spread across his face. "With this, I should be able to retire! I'll be rich!"

Tristan and J.J. watched as Ed pushed himself up and groaned as he began staggering away with the treasure. J.J. moved to help him, but the man waved him off. "Don't bother," he grunted, dragging the chest behind him. "He told me to get out, so I'm heading for the exit."

"But… you don't know the way…." J.J. began, but Ed was already hurrying away. Tristan shook his head.

"Astounding what greed can accomplish," he commented. "One would barely think he could hardly stand moments ago."

"Out of curiosity, what were those bars made of?" J.J. asked, folding his arms. "Was it some alchemical metal that Quintus created?"

" _Lord_ Quintus, peasant," Agnar growled. "Show respect to your betters. To answer your question, Lord Quintus discovered a process to extract and refine and extract the metals in alum, creating a lightweight, silvery metal that has many uses."

J.J. blinked. "…Aluminum. You gave him a chest full of aluminum? Well… that explains how he could drag it out of here on one leg, if it's that light…." A grin slowly spread across his face, and he began laughing, much to the confusion of Agnar. Tristan, on the other hand, had been on the surface long enough to chuckle a bit as well.

"What amuses you so?" Agnar asked skeptically.

"Ah… aluminum isn't all that valuable anymore," J.J. replied. "It's quite common these days. The amount you gave him… it might net him a little bit of cash, but it's not the windfall he might be expecting. Though, honestly, I think that's a more fitting reward."

"Indeed? Surprising," Agnar commented drily. "In any case, since you assisted me, I feel that I must offer you a boon as well. What would you have of me?"

J.J. stopped laughing and straightened up, suddenly growing serious. If Agnar was giving him carte blanche, there was only one thing he wanted: information. "Just answer a question for me. Where can we find the Black Seraph?"

Agnar seemed uncomfortable, and he slowly looked away. "I must request that you not ask me that question. It would go against my oath of fealty to offer information that could directly harm my lord."

J.J. frowned behind his helmet, but he relented and nodded. Then his mind flashed to something else. "In that case… can you tell me about that crown? I saw it in Quintus' book, and I noticed you had notes written all over that page as well. What is it?"

Agnar remained silent for several moments, staring off into space. He seemed to be weighing the value of that information. Finally, though, he met J.J.'s gaze.

"What you refer to is the Crown of Almencia, or more specifically, the Crown of Domitius. If you do not know Almencian history, King Domitius was the driving force behind the creation of the Seraphs and their jewels. It was his desire to allow his people to assume any role they wished, and Lord Quintus' experiments were the key to achieving that dream.

"The Crown of Almencia was Lord Quintus' final creation. It was meant to allow King Domitious to use the power of the Seraphs to control the jewels. With the crown, he could stabilize the debilitating effects of the Black Seraph's powers, allowing the citizens to achieve their desired roles with enhanced abilities, absent of the monstrous changes that usually accompany the Black Seraph's gifts. However, shortly after the crown was completed, the island fell into chaos, and the crown was lost. It is my belief that the crown was improperly used, which was what led to the proliferation of monsters on the island and its eventual downfall. I know nothing of its whereabouts, but it is a powerful artifact, one of Lord Quintus' greatest creations."

"And you're looking for this thing?" J.J. asked, frowning.

"No. My objective is to wait for the jewels of the Black Seraph to mature and to deliver them to him. That is all," Agnar said firmly. "Though he allows me to hunt for Almencian citizens when I am not tasked with overseeing the fruition of another of your citizens."

"Could the crown be connected, though?" J.J. asked.

"Possibly," Agnar said evasively. "I cannot say."

J.J. nodded, folding his arms and glancing at Tristan. "You got anything to say to him?"

"Merely this," Tristan replied, gazing at Agnar. "You showed a side of yourself in the manor that I was afraid you have forgotten. You truly have upheld your oath to protect Almencia."

"You flatter me," Agnar replied, but Tristan held up a hand.

"However, I am disappointed that you do not extend that dedication to the citizens of this city. They are the heirs of Almencia, you know," Tristan continued.

Agnar lowered his head, before sighing and looking away. "Sir Tristan, you did not witness the horror that I did-"

"No, but I am witnessing the atrocities that you are committing now," Tristan countered. "You have slain innocents in the name of a nation that is lost, in the vain hope that it might return. A hope that will likely prove folly."

"I have no connection to these people, despite your claims," Agnar replied. "The Marks family are proven Almencians, hence why I obeyed Lady Marks' command. The rest, however, are descendants of those from other lands who merely reside in a city founded by Almencians. This is not Almencia, despite your assertion, so I feel no guilt in exchanging their lives for those of my countrymen."

"And what of the Almencian Diemons you slew?" Tristan pointed out. Then he added in a softer voice, "Like my brother."

"They… those deaths tore at my soul, I must admit," Agnar said reluctantly. "However, when their minds faded and they were consumed by their powers, they were no longer Almencians. They were mere beasts. That is why I have kept the Almencians I have found in stasis this entire time, so that I needn't bear the anguish of slaying them if they possess the Seraph's jewels and achieve Apotheosis. I would much rather achieve whatever goal the Black Seraph has with as little Almencian blood on my hands as possible."

"Yet you are still willing to stain your hands," Tristan said coldly.

Agnar folded his hands behind his back, looking up at the ceiling of the cave. "Suppose that two children were scheduled for execution for a crime they did not commit. One is your cousin, and the other is a stranger's child. The king grants you the chance to pardon one and condemn the other. Every time, Sir Tristan, you would choose family over the stranger."

"You are wrong, Sir Agnar," Tristan replied. "I would find a way to save them both, and to fight against the injustice that wrongfully sentenced them in the first place. That is what a true knight would do."

Agnar was silent for several long moments, as if mulling over Tristan's words, and then he turned around and began to walk back to the manor. "My thanks once again for your assistance today," he said shortly, jerking a hand towards the cave's entrance. "I have repairs to see to. Begone."

Before J.J. and Tristan could say any more, Agnar slammed the gates of the manor shut behind him with a resounding crack. J.J. and Tristan exchanged looks, before J.J. sighed. "C'mon, we should catch up with Ed, make sure he doesn't reopen that gash."

"Quite," Tristan said. The two turned and walked in silence for a few minutes, before J.J. gave Tristan a sidelong glance.

"You seem like you're calmer now. Did you get all that anger out of your system during your duel?" he asked lightly. "Or did fighting with him help reconcile you two?"

"Make no mistake, page," Tristan said quietly. "I still seek justice for my brother's murder, and I will duel him again one day. However, I must admit that I was mistaken in prioritizing vengeance over my true oath as a knight. I swear to you, never again shall I forget that protecting others takes precedence over my personal quest to avenge my brother."

"Good!" J.J. said cheerfully, deciding not to press the issue further. However, as he glanced over at Tristan, the knight still looked uncomfortable, even behind his helmet. "What is it?"

"I… also owe you an apology," Tristan said, almost meekly. "I should not have struck you earlier. My rash action has shamed me, and I beg your forgiveness."

"Oh, right. That," J.J. said. He paused for a moment, then suddenly swung around with a right hook that caught Tristan off-guard. His fist struck the knight in the cheek, and he was knocked to the ground. Tristan stared at him in shock, holding his cheek, but though he remained on the ground, J.J. knew he was more surprised than hurt.

"Page!" Tristan cried. J.J. burst out laughing, walking over and holding a hand out.

"Now we're even," he said, still grinning. Tristan stared at his hand for a moment, before ruefully chuckling as well and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

"You have grown stronger, page," Tristan commented, shaking his head to clear it. "In more ways than one."

"Who's flattering who now?" J.J. asked, still grinning as they picked up the pace to catch up with Ed, leaving the manor behind.


	30. Session 30

**Session 30**

"Alright, so what's the big surprise, Gwen?" J.J. asked as he pushed open the door of Gary's tavern, shoving his phone in his pocket as he did. He immediately noticed that most of their usual group was there – Tristan, Ryan, Abby, even Susumu had stepped away from the garage for a bit.

As soon as he saw them, his eyes widened in mock fear. "Wait… everyone's here… oh no," he exclaimed, backing towards the door. "What's all this? Is this an intervention? Or… are you expecting a proposal? Are _you_ going to propose to _me_? Gwen, I needed more time to prepare! I don't even know my dress size! I'm not ready to be a bride!"

Gwen immediately crossed the room and smacked him upside the head while the others burst out laughing. "Stop being stupid," she growled.

J.J. grinned at her unrepentantly as he rubbed the back of his head. "Couldn't resist," he said easily. "Seriously, what's going on?"

"Well… as thanks for that charity function we did a little while ago, the mayor pulled some strings and got these for me." Gwen reached into the pocket of her hoodie and pulled out several tickets, beaming as she spread them out like a fan. "They're free tickets to the upcoming Callie P. Tso concert! She gave me more than enough to invite all of you!"

"Oh, thanks! That's really sweet of you!" J.J. said, smiling at her warmly, though his smile faltered slightly a moment later. "…Who's Callie Tso?"

Abby smacked her face into her palm while Gwen gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look. "Do you never listen to music?" Abby groaned. Gary shook his head in disbelief as well, and Susumu likewise was looking incredulous, though at least Ryan seemed as lost as he was.

"Not usually, no," J.J. admitted. "I tend to write better when it's quiet, so I don't usually have the radio on."

"Callie's an idol from this town who's recently shot up the charts," Abby explained, folding her arms as she sat back in her chair. "Her music's got this unique beat to it. Though they call it indie, it's hard to define properly. It could almost be called a new genre of music. There's this… undertone to it that makes it hard to get out of your head. When you first listen to it, it's kinda bland, but it grows on you. I've gotta admit, I'm looking forward to this."

"Huh. I'll take your word for it," J.J. shrugged, before smiling down at Gwen. "And it has been a while since I took you on a proper date. So, since you paid for the tickets, I'll take care of the snacks. Just for us, though," he added, glancing around at the others, before they could perk up hopefully at the suggestion that he would pay for all of them. He could almost hear them groan in disappointment, and he and Gwen traded grins.

"Nice save. You're learning," she praised him. "By the way, where's Agni? I invited him over too, but I haven't seen him yet."

"Actually, he texted me. I was going to come over here anyways, since he wanted to introduce me to a potential editor. He mentioned it a little while ago, but I only just managed to set up an appointment. Since that fight we had a few days ago with the Irise, I hadn't had much time to-"

J.J. was interrupted at the sound of someone violently spitting out a drink. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Susumu had spilled his drink on himself and that he was choking on his soda. J.J. hurried over to pound on his back, but Susumu waved him off. When Susumu looked up, J.J. was startled to see that his face was contorted in a frantic expression.

"Your fight with _what_ a few days ago?" Susumu cried.

"An… Irise?" J.J. repeated, frowning at the mechanic. "Why…?"

Susumu went pale, and he reached up, grabbing J.J. by the collar and dragging him down. J.J. flailed slightly, catching himself on the table. Susumu leaned in, speaking in a low, strangled voice.

"Let me ask you one thing. You beat it, right? Did it explode?" Susumu asked tightly.

J.J. stopped struggling against Susumu's grasp, instead giving him an utterly perplexed look. "What?" he asked flatly.

Susumu tightened his grip on J.J.'s shirt, pulling him even closer. "Did. It. Explode?" he repeated, punctuating each word.

"No! Of course not!" J.J. replied, bewildered. "Why the hell would it explode? What, is it made of dynamite or something?"

Susumu suddenly released J.J.'s shirt and pushed himself up, wincing as he put his weight on his bad leg. He grabbed his cane and began hobbling out of the tavern as he said to Gary, "Money's on the table. Thanks. I've gotta… check something out."

J.J. straightened his jacket and glanced around, realizing that he wasn't the only one staring at Susumu in confusion. "What's wrong?" J.J. called after him.

"Hopefully nothing," Susumu replied, pushing open the door.

"Are you going to be at the concert?" Gwen asked, concerned.

Susumu paused in the doorway, considering her question, before letting out a sigh. "I'll try to make it, but chances are… probably not," he replied reluctantly. "I wish things were different, but… anyways, I'll be in touch."

Susumu quickly hobbled out the door, leaving the other patrons gazing at it. J.J. glanced around, frowning. "Anyone have any idea what that was about?"

He was met with the others shaking their heads and murmuring to each other. J.J. slipped into Susumu's empty seat, staring after him quietly. He'd never seen the mechanic so spooked before. Did Susumu know something they didn't? Did he have prior experience with Irises? J.J. leaned back slightly, looking down at the floor. When he thought about it, he didn't actually know much about Susumu, other than the fact that he was very good with machines. Was there something in Susumu's past that he'd kept secret?

The door opened again, the sound interrupting his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Agni step inside. A grin spread across his face as he walked towards his agent, who was looking unusually nervous.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up," J.J. commented, holding his hand out, which Agni took weakly. "Before you get this meeting started, Gwen had a surprise for you."

"Yeah… uh… I… kinda have a surprise for you too," Agni said, looking away while rubbing the back of his neck.

J.J.'s smile faded. Agni's expression was starting to worry him. "Agni? What is it?"

"Jay," a familiar voice announced, addressing him by a name he no longer went by. J.J. felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as his heart stopped, and he looked past Agni as another figure walked through the door. She stood a full head shorter than J.J. and sported the same shade of golden blond hair, though she kept hers in a short bob cut. Her steel-blue eyes narrowed behind a thin pair of glasses as they fixed on him. She was dressed in a tan pantsuit, one he was quite used to seeing, as it was her main outfit when he had worked under her. Her thin mouth pursed as she pinned J.J. under her gaze.

"We're going to have a talk, Jay," the woman said sternly.

"J.J.?" Gwen asked, looking past his shoulder. "Who's that?"

J.J. didn't respond to her question directly, but he answered it with the next words out of his mouth. "Hello, mother," he hissed.

* * *

Five minutes later, J.J.'s mother was seated in a corner of the tavern, a cup of tea in front of her and a look of disdain on her face as she glowered at her son from across the room. J.J. had grabbed Agni and dragged him to an opposite corner.

"What the hell, Agni?!" J.J. snapped, though he kept his voice down so that his mother wouldn't hear him chewing out his friend. "I thought I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with her! What, were you confused because we have different surnames? I told you, I go by my father's name, not her's!"

"I know!" Agni assured him, holding his hands up innocently. "I swear, I didn't know that she was the one who requested to meet with you until I was told to pick her up at the airport! This was the company's decision, not mine! They wouldn't tell me who she was until then! Apparently she insisted that they keep her identity secret!"

"Ugh. Smart on her part, then. She knows that I would have bolted if I knew she wanted to talk to me," J.J. sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "This sucks. Is there any way we can get a different editor?"

"It'll take some time," Agni replied. "And unfortunately, since you're so new to the business, you're not really in a position to outright refuse to speak with her. She's a high-profile author and editor. If you turned her down without even meeting with her, you would be labeled as arrogant and difficult to work with, which would make setting up future meetings difficult."

"So… you're saying I don't have much of a choice here?" J.J. asked coldly.

"I'm saying you should just talk with her," Agni insisted. "I can mark it down that the meeting didn't go well if you really don't want to work with her."

"Believe me, I don't," J.J. snarled.

"Jay!" his mother called out from the other side of the tavern, tapping her pen against her notebook impatiently. "I'm waiting. Sit down."

J.J. felt a shudder of disgust run through his body, and he forced himself to take a deep breath to try and suppress it. His legs felt like lead, and his skin was already flushed with anger. He could feel every eye in the tavern on him as he slowly made his way to the table. Reluctantly, he flopped down in the chair across from her, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Sit up straight," Kay ordered him. J.J. glared at her, refusing to comply with her order.

"What did you want to discuss, Miss Penn?" J.J. asked in a clipped tone.

"Drop the attitude, son," Kay snapped. "I'm taking a lot of time out of my schedule to meet with you. Even after you ran off like an ungrateful brat, I'm devoting some of my schedule to you. I expect you to show me some proper respect."

"Respect?" J.J. sneered, sitting up and resting his elbows on the edge of the table, folding his hands and glowering at her over them. "Why should I show you respect when you refuse to show me any? Or was rewriting my entire novel your idea of respect?"

"Don't start with me, Jay," Kay sighed. "I was doing my job as your editor. If I hadn't made those changes, your book would have been panned by every critic from here to California."

"So instead, you thought it'd be a good idea to put my name on something you wrote?!" J.J. barked at her. He could feel the eyes of the other patrons on him, but he was seething with fury that he'd kept bottled up for years. "I don't give a damn if it would have gotten panned, it was _my_ story! You changed everything but the most superficial details, to the point that it was no longer even recognizable as something that I had written!"

"And because of the changes I made, it became a bestseller, and it would have put you on the map if you hadn't thrown a fit and run off like a spoiled child," Kay replied blithely, though she was glaring at him from behind her glasses. "You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?!" J.J. cried incredulously. "You humiliated me! It's not enough that you couldn't tell me that the story was poor to my face! You went behind my back! You didn't tell me anything about the changes you were going to make, and I didn't even find out until I bought a copy of my – sorry, _your_ – new book!"

"Lower your voice, Jay," Kay snapped at him. "You're making a scene."

"Good! Maybe you'll feel a _hint_ of the embarrassment I felt!" J.J. snapped at her, leaning over the table and snarling as he gazed into her eyes.

Kay gazed at him quietly, adjusting her glasses. She then turned and reached into her bag, pulling out a stack of papers, which she tapped on the table, before looking at him blithely. "I'm not here to talk about the past," Kay said simply. "I'm here to discuss your most recent work. Kindly take your seat, and we can get started."

J.J. felt heat rising in his face, rage boiling inside of him at his mother's audacious indifference. As she continued to stare at him, however, he forced himself to calm down. He let his breath out in a long, slow hiss, then pulled his hair out of its tie and re-tied it as a way to take a few seconds and regain his composure. He then sat down across from her, folding his arms and glaring at her. "Fine. Let's go over it, then," he said through clenched teeth.

Kay nodded simply, acting as though his outburst had never happened. "Your most recent work shows that your mastery of basic grammar and sentence structure has gotten better. Your scenes are more descriptive without drifting into 'purple prose,' and the characters have more personality to them. Overall, it's a marked improvement when compared to your previous work."

J.J. blinked, taken aback by her sudden praise. "Oh… then it's good enough to-?"

Kay held up a hand, cutting him off as she peered at him over the edge of the paper. "However, even with all that, I cannot recommend this be sent in for publishing."

J.J. didn't even have the energy to look disappointed. He would have been surprised if the other shoe _hadn't_ dropped. "What's the problem, then?" he asked dully.

"Frankly, it's a trite, flawed premise from the ground up," Kay explained as she set the papers down on the table. "A knight trying to save a doomed kingdom? That is the most cliché storyline in fantasy. I didn't even need to read past the first couple chapters to know what was going to happen. It was blandly predictable."

J.J. narrowed his eyes. "Did you even read to the end?" he asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

"I didn't have to. I skimmed most of the way through, and while there were moments that caught my interest, most of it was paint-by-numbers fantasy. Nothing important grabbed my attention," Kay explained, sipping her tea.

"Maybe you should have actually read it all the way through, then," J.J. growled. "It might end in a way you didn't expect!"

"These days, even having a twist ending is a cliché in and of itself," Kay said, waving off his protests. "If one is expecting a twist, then the only twist would be not having a twist in the first place, wouldn't it?" She picked up her cup of tea and began sipping on it, gazing at him over the rim of the cup.

J.J. felt his blood starting to boil again. "So you're critiquing my work without actually having read it. Is that about right?" he snapped.

Kay gazed at him, before setting down her cup of tea. "Actually, I didn't just come here to give you constructive criticism. At least, that wasn't my main reason for finding you. I came here to tell you that it's time for you to come back home."

J.J. stared at her silently for several seconds. "You cannot be serious," he snorted derisively.

"Jay, I gave you your space," Kay sighed, her tone dripping with condescension. "I tolerated this childish outburst of yours where you ran away from home and didn't call years. I had hoped that you would have grown out of your rebellious phase. You're too old to keep acting like a child. So, I'm going to tell you what you're going to do. You're going to come back to the company. We have an excellent position waiting for you. You can be a junior editor, and you'll make… well, you'll actually make money, instead of living off scraps like you have been out here," she scoffed. "Your agent informed me of your meager living conditions. You don't have to live like a pauper anymore, though, if you'll just do what I say and return home."

J.J. narrowed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet. "I would rather be a penniless beggar than make millions off of books I didn't write," he growled. "I don't mind being poor."

"And you'll continue to be if you try to publish this trash," his mother replied, holding up his manuscript.

"Trash or not, it's still my trash," J.J. retorted, pushing himself up. "We're done here. If there's nothing else, you may as well go home, Miss Penn."

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied simply, taking a moment to drain her teacup. "Not until you agree to come with me."

"You can't force me to do so," J.J. pointed out. "I'm over eighteen, and no cop in the world would arrest me for refusing to listen to my mother when I'm a legal adult."

"True. But you're coming home regardless. I can wait," Kay shrugged.

"I hope you've got enough money to stay in a hotel forever, then," J.J. replied defiantly. "Because I'm not leaving. Marville has become more of a home to me than anywhere I ever stayed with you. And I have something important to take care of here in the meantime, so I really don't have any incentive to leave."

"Important," Kay scoffed. "You're still playing those silly games, aren't you?"

"Damn right I am," J.J. replied. He briefly considered warning her about the monster attacks in the city, but then realized that she wouldn't believe him anyways. She could find out on her own, he decided bitterly. He turned to face Gwen, speaking up a bit. "You mind it if we head to the concert a little early? I could use something to distract me."

"Uh… sure, I can probably get us in to look around," Gwen replied uncomfortably. She pushed herself up from her seat. J.J.'s mother watched them as they headed for the door.

"You're coming with me one way or another, Jay!" Kay called after him.

"My name is J.J.," he replied coldly, before turning around and walking out the door with his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. What no one else could see, but what she could feel, was the way he was gripping the shoulder of her shirt so tightly that his hand was trembling and his knuckles were white.

* * *

"Calmed down a little bit?" Gwen asked soothingly as she walked over, handing J.J. a cup filled with cool mint tea.

"A little," J.J. replied, smiling at her gratefully as he took the cup. They were already sitting in their chairs as the outdoor stadium started to fill up. However, they'd arrived rather early, and only a few members of the audience had trickled in, so they were more or less alone in their section. "Sorry for going off like that. It's just… no one gets to me the way she does."

"I get why, after what you've told me," Gwen assured him. "And the sheer _arrogance_ of that woman, assuming she could snap her fingers and you'd follow her home like a puppy."

"To be fair, I used to," J.J. admitted, swirling the tea around as he gazed down at the paper cup. "When I was younger, I did what she said without question, because she was always right. She taught me several tricks for writing good papers, and even at the highest levels of my private school, I always aced English classes in large part thanks to her. I remember some of my classmates complaining that I had an unfair advantage. And admittedly, I did," he added with a sheepish grin. "But it wasn't all her. She wasn't the one taking the tests or writing my papers. I was the one, at the end of the day, who earned my grades. I suppose she never acknowledged that, though." He took a sip of the tea, then grinned apologetically at his girlfriend. "Sorry. First world problems, I know."

"No, I get it," Gwen replied. "Honestly, my brother's kind of the same way. He's the one in charge of the family, and he expects me to go along with every plan for the city that he comes up with. He also hates it when I show any sign of going against him."

"Really? You never mentioned that," J.J. commented. "Is he that hard on you?"

"Usually he doesn't care about what I do, since he's usually so absorbed in his next big project, so he tends to leave me to my own devices," Gwen explained. "But there are times when he basically demands that I go along with what he wants, like that charity function we had a few weeks ago. When he gets like that, it's almost impossible to say no to him, especially since I know that most of the time, his heart is in the right place. He's rather selfless, but he expects his family to help him pursue his goals and ideals. He always says it's for the good of the people, and it's difficult to argue with that."

"Well, at least he's got good intentions, then. Still… am I going to have to kick down the door to your mansion one of these days and beat him down for being too hard on you?" J.J. asked, cracking a wry grin at her to assure her that he wasn't being serious.

"Y'know… if he gets too bad, you might have to," Gwen chuckled.

The two passed the next half hour or so chatting and munching on snacks while the stadium slowly filled up. Their friends eventually arrived, though shortly before the concert was about to start, he noticed a couple of missing faces.

"Agni decided not to come?" J.J. asked, glancing over at Gary.

"He said he had work to do. Especially since your mother insisted on staying in town until you agree to return with her. He had to make arrangements to accommodate her," Gary explained.

J.J. frowned faintly, looking down. "I don't want him to have to go the extra mile on account of my mother," he said softly. "Look, if he needs help-"

"He doesn't, and he told me to pass along that this is his mess to sort out, not yours," Gary replied firmly. "Besides, he's getting paid to do this. The longer he works, the more overtime he gets for his trouble," he added with a grin.

"Fair enough," J.J. shrugged, putting it out of his mind. He then glanced over at Tristan, who had taken a seat next to him, adding in a softer voice, "And Susumu?"

"I have seen nothing of our erstwhile mechanic since he departed earlier this afternoon," Tristan replied, shaking his head. "Nor have any of my attempts to contact him proven successful."

"What did you try?" J.J. asked curiously.

"I attempted to reach him on the telephone, as he has shown me how to use it," Tristan explained. "However, the only response I received on the other end was from a rather confused young lady who accused me of trying to relieve her of her money, and then informed me that she was uninterested in a subscription, before she went silent." He shrugged, shaking his head. "I am unsure of what she was referring to."

"Wrong number, Tristan," J.J. said, unable to suppress a wry grin. "But at least you tried. Just make sure you get it right next time."

"I see. In any case, no, I have no knowledge of his whereabouts," Tristan reiterated.

J.J. bit the inside of his cheek, but he put his concerns aside shortly afterwards as the lights in the stadium dimmed, and a raucous cheer filled the stands. People began standing, and J.J. followed suit, if only to blend in with the crowd. Beside him, he saw Gwen standing on her toes to try and see over the heads of the taller members of the audience. J.J. grinned lightly and pulled her to him, lifting her up so that she could stand on his feet, to gain a bit more height. She smiled up at him warmly, taking his arms and wrapping them around her for balance and comfort, as a fog machine began bellowing smoke and lasers highlighted the appearance of the singer, who bounced out on stage, grinning broadly.

Callie was a girl in her late teens, and the seats they had were close enough that J.J. could clearly make out her features. She was Oriental – likely Japanese given her last name – with a long sea-green streak running through her loose black hair and small silver stars painted next to her brown eyes. She flounced out in a punkish schoolgirl outfit, with a black tanktop over a black plaid miniskirt, fishnet stockings, and thigh-high black boots. The crowd went wild as she appeared, and she beamed as she waved to them.

"You all ready?!" she screamed into the microphone, and the crowd roared its approval. Below him, Gwen joined the cheer, bouncing on his toes. "Let's kick this party off right!" she yelled, motioning to her band to begin playing.

The girl's performance was unusual, J.J. reflected later. At first, the music sounded… fine, if a bit generic. But as it rose towards its first crescendo, he felt it washing over him, and suddenly he found himself nodding along to it and smiling to himself. Halfway through the song, he was humming the melody, and near the end he was actively trying to learn the lyrics. Then, as the second song began, he realized that he liked it even more than the first. His admiration for Callie's music continued to grow with every new song. Yet… in the back of his mind, he continued to wonder if the music was actually as good as he thought it was. There was a rippling undercurrent behind the music that gave it an addictive quality, but he couldn't place it. Indie rock wasn't his preferred genre to begin with, so he didn't have some instinctive attachment to her music, but he nevertheless felt as though he could listen to her songs forever.

The longer the concert went on, the more he felt as though he was slipping into a blissful haze. Two-thirds of the way through the concert, he was grinning down at Gwen, who was matching his expression, as they swayed together in time to the music. As the concert was winding down, though, the bassist got a bit too excited and tripped over a cable, which briefly detached Callie's microphone. The band paused, and when the music stopped, J.J. felt the haze over his thoughts lifting.

Groaning, he blinked furiously a few times, feeling anger rising in his chest. He felt as though he'd been having a rather warm, pleasant dream, before a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. He clearly wasn't the only one either, as the crowd began murmuring, and then shouting at the band to fix the equipment. Beside him, his companions were likewise shaking their heads and rubbing their eyes.

J.J. turned his attention back to the stage, and with the haze momentarily lifted, he noticed that Callie was looking rather uncomfortable. Was she feeling badly because of the technical difficulties interrupting her song? No… it was more than that, he thought to himself. She seemed… melancholy, as if she didn't really want to be there. Why was that? Weren't singers supposed to love what they were doing? Why did she look like she just wanted to get the concert over with and slink away?

A feedback squeal resounded from the speakers, and everyone in the audience winced and covered their ears. "Sorry, folks!" a middle-aged Oriental man called into the microphone. "Just give us a few minutes and we'll have everything back up and running!"

J.J. frowned to himself as he shook his head. For some reason, he felt as if he shouldn't see the rest of the show. However, moments later, the music started up again, and he found himself slipping back into an enjoyable haze, his thoughts getting swept away once again in the current of music. Callie played four more songs, including a bonus song that she claimed she hadn't released yet, as an apology for the interruption. The crowd screamed with delight as she finished the set, and when she took her final bow, she was beaming again and waving. The audience – J.J. included – was begging for an encore, but the man from before was insisting that the show was over and that they needed to head home.

J.J. found that with the music slowly dissipating, his second climb back into the silence of reality was much less abrupt, and he glanced down to see Gwen grinning up at him. "So, I take it that you had fun?" she asked.

"I can see why people like her," J.J. admitted, looking up towards the empty stage with a slight smile. "Her music has a depth to it that I've never heard before. I wonder why she isn't more widely known."

"She's stayed local," Abby explained from behind him. "Though with her talent, I figure it's only a matter of time before she hits it big."

"Well, good for her. I had fun," J.J. said. "Thanks for inviting me!"

"I… have one more treat for you, actually," Gwen said, grinning up at him. "How would you guys like to meet her?"

The group stared at her in surprise, as she held up another set of tickets with a grin. "Backstage passes," she explained. "One of the perks of being a Marks."

"Could we really see her?" Abby piped up. J.J. glanced over his shoulder, and an amused smile crossed his lips as he saw how eager most of their friends were to go meet her.

"These'll get you past security. My treat," Gwen grinned.

As his friends snatched the passes from her with words of thanks, Gary nudged his shoulder. "J.J.? Marry her," he said.

J.J. felt the heat rise to his face momentarily as Gwen smirked up at him, a playfully expectant look on her face. "Don't encourage her," he replied, grinning at Gary.

"Oh, no, I think it should be encouraged," Gwen insisted teasingly. "Come on, I know the perfect store where we can pick out a dress for you-"

"You behave," J.J. said, putting his hand on her head and spinning her around. She pouted up at him, but then smiled as she led them down the stairs to a security guard. The woman glared until they flashed their passes, at which point she opened the ropes for them and ushered the group towards the backstage area. The stage crew was breaking down the equipment, while the same Oriental man from earlier was shouting orders. Off to one side was Callie, sitting on a chair and reading a book while sipping from a bottle of water. The security guard cleared her throat lightly, and Callie glanced up with a weary smile.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss Tso. This group had backstage passes and said that they wanted to meet you," the guard explained.

"Right, no problem. Nice to meet you all," Callie said easily, standing up languidly before waving at them. She seemed friendly enough in person, though J.J. noted that her shoulders were slightly slumped, in contrast to her perky stage persona. Perhaps she was just tired, he mused, waving the thought off.

"Likewise," Gwen said, holding her hand out. "I'm Gwen Marks. Sorry to intrude on you like this during your downtime…."

"Oh, it's fine. Happens all the time, and I like getting the chance to meet some of my fans," Callie replied.

As Gwen went down the line introducing people, J.J. idly glanced towards the seat Callie had vacated. A faint frown crossed his face as he noticed the cover of the book she had been reading. It was eerily familiar…

J.J. skirted a bit closer to the chair, blinking at the cover in surprise, just as Gwen pointed to him and added, "…and my boyfriend, who… is not paying attention," she scowled.

J.J. shook his head, smiling lightly as he looked up. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. "I was just curious what you were reading."

"Oh! _The Tale of Celim Connery._ It's a bit of an obscure book that I only found in one little bookstore when I was looking for something to read while we were traveling. It apparently didn't sell very well, but I found it charming. I doubt you've heard of it, though," Callie said.

"No, I have. And I would hope that I'd heard of it," J.J. said, unable to keep a small smile off his face. "After all, I'm the one that wrote it."

Callie's eyes widened. "You're teasing me," she said suspiciously.

"J.J. Wells," J.J. said, holding his hand out, his smile spreading across his face. "That was my first book."

"No way!" Callie shrieked, almost pouncing on his hand and beaming up at him. "I absolutely love that book! I never thought I'd get to meet the author!"

"Really?" J.J. asked, dazed. He'd never met a single fan of his book. "I mean… the few critics who read it said they hated it, and I never thought anyone really bought it. It's been out of print for months."

"Critics? Psh, you can't listen to critics," Callie said, waving him off. "There's always going to be someone who finds fault with your work in some way. I'll admit, it's not Shakespeare or anything, but it was a fun story. I've reread it three times already!" She paused, then grabbed the book and pushed it into his hands. "Could I maybe get you to sign it?"

J.J.'s mouth fell open, and he could practically hear his companions' jaws hitting the floor as well. She pushed a marker into his hand, and he stared at it dumbly for a moment before slowly opening the book to the front cover. Clearing his throat, he said softly, "To my first fan. I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed your music. J.J. Wells." He then smiled hesitantly and handed the book back to her. "That… you have no idea what that means to me."

"Why? Was that the first time you've given an autograph? Don't worry. It won't be the last," Callie smiled at him, taking the book and putting it back down on her chair.

"I've gotta say, I'm a fan of yours as well. That was a really good set you performed," J.J. added, grinning at her. "I don't think I've ever felt that way during a song."

"Oh. Yeah, thanks," Callie said, looking away. J.J.'s smile faltered slightly. Had he struck a nerve somehow? Her reaction wasn't cold, exactly, but it was… distant. It was eerily familiar as well. He couldn't quite place it, but he was getting a strong sense of déjà vu.

"Could you sign something for me as well, Callie?" Abby asked, suddenly stepping up. J.J. slipped behind her, realizing that he had been unintentionally monopolizing Callie's time. The singer smiled slightly and took the CD case that Abby offered her.

"Of course!" Callie replied, popping the top on the marker again. Once again, her tone wasn't icy, but it almost seemed as though her heart wasn't in it. She signed the CD with a flourish, but to him, it seemed like it was one more part of the act she had been part of on stage. Why, though?

"Callie! We're wrapping up in five minutes," came a voice from behind her. A figure swept in out of the shadows, and J.J. once again recognized the middle-aged man who had seized the microphone when the equipment had shorted out. He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over the small group around her. "Backstage visitors?" he asked quickly.

"Yes. I was just signing a few things for them," Callie replied.

"Mm. Alright, but hurry up. We need to get back to the hotel so we can meet with the producer about the next record deal," the man said briefly, before pulling out his phone. "Five minutes."

"No problem," Callie replied, sighing. As the man walked away, she gave the group a dispirited look. "I'm sorry, but if that's the situation…."

"No, we completely understand!" Gary said quickly. "Show biz doesn't stop for anyone, right?"

"It doesn't," Callie said softly. She looked up, frowning faintly at J.J. "Listen… do you think you could give me a hand with my bag? I'd like to talk with you a little more."

He could almost hear Gwen bristling behind him, but J.J. smiled slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "Down girl," he said playfully as he caught sight of her glowering. "I'll be right back, and then I'll buy you dinner, alright?"

"It's going to be expensive," Gwen warned him, though she softened slightly as she stepped up and kissed him on the cheek. "Just hurry back, alright? If you take too long, we'll just leave and text you the restaurant we decide on."

"I promise," J.J. winked at her, before stooping down to grab Callie's bag and sling it over his shoulder for her. The girl gave him a grateful smile, and they walked off the stage together. She began leading him across the parking lot towards a large SUV.

"Huh. I thought a big-time star would travel in something more ostentatious," J.J. commented, keeping his tone light.

"I'm not that big yet," Callie replied modestly, smiling up at him. "I'm locally famous, but I don't make any more than the average office worker at this level."

"Yeah, but at least you're doing what you love, right?" J.J. pointed out.

"Mm," Callie replied. J.J. glanced at her, realizing that her answer wasn't really a yes or a no, but he decided not to push it. "I'm jealous of you, you know," she added, giving him a sidelong glance.

"What do you mean?" J.J. asked, frowning.

"You're still starting out, meaning you're still free to write whatever you like. You don't have to meet expectations. The deeper you get into this business, the more you have to cater to other people's tastes," Callie explained, before letting out a sigh. "Many executives and agents want things that sell, not things that you want to create. I imagine that's true for both music and writing."

"Is that what it takes to be successful?" J.J. asked warily.

"Sometimes, yes," Callie admitted. "Some artists can get away with creating anything they like, but sometimes people work on projects they don't like just to put food on the table. I've had to do that more than once."

J.J. chewed the inside of his cheek as he opened the door to the SUV and placed her bag inside. Callie did make sense, and he understood that both the music and writing industries were businesses at the end of the day. But the way she said it, he realized, was with such regret and sadness. She strongly reminded him of himself in a lot of ways.

"Callie!" a voice called out to her, and both she and J.J. turned towards the source of the voice. Approaching them was the man who had grabbed the microphone from her when it had malfunctioned. He was looking haggard and tired, and as he approached Callie, he frowned at her. "Why are you dawdling? I told you, we have a meeting with the producer in half an hour, and we need to be at the hotel by then."

"Sorry dad. I have the guitar. The stage crew said they'd get the heavy stuff," Callie replied softly, looking down at the ground. "I was just-"

"And you, you're one of those kids that was backstage, right?" he added, rounding on J.J. suddenly. "I told you that we needed you to clear out already," the man snapped at him. J.J scowled, drawing himself up to his full height, at which point he stood almost a head taller than the man. Seeing this, the man flinched back slightly, adding in a slightly softer voice, "We're very busy and Callie can't afford any distractions right now."

"It's fine, dad! I asked him to help me carry my things!" Callie interjected. "Besides, he's the one that wrote the book that I've been reading."

"Did you? Impressive," the man replied, though his tone didn't match his words. Nevertheless, he held his hand out, which J.J. took. "Gen Tso. I'm Callie's manager."

"And my father," Callie added quietly.

"Sounds like you have it rough," J.J. replied softly, managing a tight smile at her. "I can relate, trust me."

"I'll bet. Dad, I think I left my notes on the stage. I'm going to go pick them up," Callie said. J.J. immediately recognized it as a ploy just to get away from her father for a bit. Her father let out an exasperated sigh.

"Go get them," Gen told her, and Callie nodded quickly before hurrying off. This left the two men standing awkwardly with each other.

"So… you're her manager?" J.J. asked, trying to strike up a conversation. "What made you decide to do that?"

"I consider it a privilege to be able to watch over my daughter as she pursues her dream," Gen explained. "I've been the one setting up her concerts and recording deals for the past several months. It's something that she only recently started pursuing seriously after I kept insisting for years that she had the talent for it. And I'll admit, I'm glad to see it's finally going well for her."

"I see," J.J. said, not sure what else he could reply with. Gen tilted his head.

"You look oddly familiar for some reason," Gen said suddenly. "Have you ever-?"

"Hello, Gen," another familiar voice suddenly piped up. J.J. felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he stifled a groan as he turned around to see his mother standing there, peering past J.J. at Callie's father, whose eyes widened in recognition.

"Kay! I haven't seen you since the Long Island event. What're you doing out here?" Gen asked, taking her hand with a warm smile.

"Picking up my son," Kay replied, shooting J.J. a pointed look. "He and I have some things to discuss."

A knowing look dawned on Gen's face as he glanced back and forth between the pair. J.J., however, rounded on his mother, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Did you stalk me all the way out here?" J.J. asked incredulously, narrowing his eyes at her in irritation.

"You made a point of mentioning where you were going tonight," Kay pointed out blithely. "I figured you and I could go get something to eat and talk a bit more about what's going to happen when you return home."

"I already told you that I'm not interested," J.J. snarled.

"You should listen to her, son," Gen interjected, smiling lightly at Kay. "She's a smart woman. Really knows her stuff. Just follow her advice and you'll do well in the writing business."

"So I've been told," J.J. replied, briefly shooting the man a warning glare to stay out of their conversation, turning his attention back to his mother. "Look, mom, it's not just that I don't have any desire to come back with you. I've also got other important things going on in this city that I need to take care of."

"Like what? Those silly tabletop games you used to play?" his mother sneered. "You can keep in contact with your friends, of course. I'm not a dictator."

J.J. snorted derisively at that. "You're literally dictating what's going to happen to me!" he shot back.

Kay opened her mouth, then closed it, seeming a bit stung, which surprised him. An awkward pause hung in the air, when Gen suddenly asked, "Where's Callie? She's supposed to have been back by now."

J.J. took advantage of the interruption to turn towards the stage, peering through the darkness to see if he could spot her. He frowned to himself as he saw neon blue lights flickering on the stage in the distance, and concern instantly began welling up inside him as he realized what those lights might be. "Oh no," he muttered under his breath.

He began sprinting towards the stage, leaving both his mother and Gen behind. He heard his mother shout his name after him, but he ignored her. As he skidded to a halt at the base of the stage, he saw a trio of Shards advancing on Callie, their hands outstretched. He realized that two of them had a slightly more martial appearance than usual – one had a crude axe for a hand, and another had a blade for an arm. Was there a reason the Shards were becoming more deadly lately?

"Worry about that later," he muttered under his breath, before jumping up on stage and snapping his fingers. His quill flew into his hand, and he clicked it out into its sword form. Immediately, he placed himself between Callie and the Shards, keeping the sword out in front of him in a loose stance while barking to her shortly, "Stay behind me!"

"J.J.?" Callie asked, looking past him towards the glowing monsters. "What are those things?! You're not… you can't fight them!"

"I've been doing more than a little bit of that lately, trust me," J.J. assured her shooting her a wry grin over his shoulder. "I'll be fine. Like I said, stay back."

The first Shard fixed its hollow eyes on J.J. and lunged at him with its sword-arm outstretched. Deftly, J.J. shifted his blade, parrying the blow to the side, before shifting to point his blade at the throat of the Shard without a weapon as it tried to move past him. The Shard regarded him silently before swiping at him with its claws, the attack raking across his chest and opening gashes across his skin before he could step back. J.J. winced, but fortunately the attack was shallow, and he pushed Callie back another couple of steps.

"J.J., don't…!" she protested, but then shrieked as the axe-Shard brought its arm up to slash at her. J.J. watched the attack closely, stepping in at the last second and bringing his blade up to parry the attack. His counterattack cleaved cleanly through the Shard's arm, and it stared dumbly at its stump as J.J. stepped in and buried his sword in its chest, whereupon it crumbled to ash.

The other two Shards scrambled towards Callie, and J.J. quickly grabbed her arm and swung her around behind him, all the while brandishing his sword at the Shards, thrusting at them tentatively to keep them at bay. He paused for a moment, glancing behind him at the drum set, and he was struck with an idea. He beckoned the unarmed Shard closer, before vaulting backwards over the drum set just as it lunged at him. The Shard stumbled forward, laying across the drums to try and slash at him, and J.J. quickly bashed the cymbals over its head, stunning it with the vibration. With it lying dazed, he buried his sword in its throat, before hurrying over to face off against the sword-wielding Shard once again.

As he and the final Shard began circling around each other, he heard footsteps approaching, and he had to keep himself from sighing as he heard his mother call out, "Jay! Stop screwing around and get down from there! What is this, some sort of play fight you're doing with one of your friends? That's a terrible costume."

"That's expensive equipment, boy!" he heard Gen add. "If you damage it in any way…!"

J.J. ignored both of them, motioning to Callie to step back further just as the Shard slashed at him wildly with its sword arm. He quickly parried the blow, but to his annoyance, the crystalline blade was strong enough to stand up to his sword, unlike the rocky parts of the Shard's body, so he couldn't simply cut through it. He immediately shifted into a fencer's stance, instead of the loose stance he had been using for mobility, and he blocked a second overhead slash from the Shard before running his sword up its blade as he charged towards it. The Shard saw the maneuver and stepped back, disengaging before stabbing at him quickly. J.J. shifted his shoulder in time, letting his reflexes do the work, and with the Shard over-extended, he stepped inside its range and slashed it across the neck, decapitating the monster in one stroke. Its rocky head rolled across the stage as its body collapsed, and both halves crumbled into ash moments later.

J.J. exhaled slowly, quickly catching his breath as Callie ran over to him, putting her hands on his chest with a terrified look. "Are you okay?! You're bleeding!"

"Yep," J.J. replied absently, touching the scratch marks and examining the blood on his fingers. "It didn't get me very deep, though. I'll just put some antibiotics on it and let it heal."

"How… why are you so calm?!" Callie asked, dumbfounded. Behind him, footsteps approached and his mother's voice immediately set his teeth on edge.

"What was that about? Are you trying to show off for Callie or something?" she asked, and as J.J. swung around, he saw that she had her arms folded and a frown on her face. "And… you're bleeding? Or is that stage blood? What's going on?" J.J. rolled his eyes and turned to face her.

"Remember when I told you I had other things to worry about right now?" J.J. asked her. "This is what I meant. This is what the town has been dealing with for the past several months."

"What, you expect me to believe monsters are attacking this city? Your stories are getting worse," his mother scoffed. J.J. sighed and rubbed his eyes. If word about what was going on hadn't really gotten out, he supposed the local media must have been doing a good job covering it up. "Even if they were, that's all the more reason for you to leave. You're not staying somewhere where you're going to get hurt."

J.J. opened his mouth to retort, but held up a hand, shushing everyone as he listened closely. The sound of footsteps drew closer from backstage, and as he turned to face them, a quartet of Shards burst through the back of the stage, charging through the drum set and over a couple of scattered speakers. Sparks flew as their hands stretched towards the stunned group. Thankfully, J.J. had slipped his hand into his jeans as soon as he'd heard footsteps, and before the Shards could close the distance, his book was open next to his left cheek.

"Henshin!" he called out, and his Driver appeared around his waist. Just as the Shards were about to rake him with their claws, he snapped the book shut and slotted it into the central belt buckle before giving the amber D-former on the front cover a spin.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted, and as trumpets played, an amber crystal surrounded him. The Shards ran into the rotating barrier and were sent flying backwards into more equipment as J.J. was covered in leather armor. As the spinning stopped, he glanced over his shoulder at the other three.

"Are you all alright?" he asked the trio behind him, holding his sword out in front of him as he turned his attention back to the Shards that were slowly rising to their feet.

Callie's mouth was hanging open, and she asked softly, " _You're_ the Kamen Rider that the news has been talking about?!"

"Kamen Rider?" his mother asked, looking him up and down with a frown. "That sounds made up. Jay, what does that even mean?"

"I really don't have time to explain," J.J. replied coldly, motioning for the others to step off the stage so that he could deal with the Shards. "Maybe next time you come to a town, you should read up on local events, though, mom," he added, unable to resist shooting her a glare from behind his helmet.

"You… look what you did to the equipment!" Gen shouted suddenly, rushing forward to inspect the damaged instruments.

"Hey… don't go near those things!" J.J. shouted. Before he could react, though, Callie ran forward as well, looking over her father's shoulder. Suddenly, she shook her head, speaking in a frantic voice.

"No… no, this is bad!" she murmured. "We can't have damaged equipment! We can't have anything that interferes with the show! No, no…!"

"Callie, step back!" J.J. cried, but before he could move in, a blinding aquamarine light exploded into his field of vision. He threw his hand over his eyes, shielding them, and as the light faded, Callie was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his attention was immediately drawn to a new figure.

The first thing J.J. noticed about the creature was its unusual combination of silver and sea green coloration. It had a lithe, feminine figure, and as it turned towards them, it did so with a sublime grace. Its limbs were covered in glittering silver scales that covered it like mail, ending at its webbed hands and feet. The midriff was bare, revealing green skin, though the prominent chest of the creature was protected by two silver scallop shells. Its pointed, slender face was humanoid, but with glassy black eyes, fin-like ears, and a small mouth that opened to reveal razor-sharp teeth. Its long, green hair fell to its mid-back, which was likewise unprotected by the silvery mail covering much of its body. The monster grinned at him, before turning towards the Shards that had burst on stage.

"You little beasts stumbled onto the wrong stage," the creature said, its voice hauntingly melodic. "I won't tolerate anything that interferes with my dream."

It opened its mouth, and J.J. winced as a piercing wail erupted from its throat. He could see the sound waves physically bending the air around them as the Shards were engulfed in a sonic cone. Their bodies began fracturing under the pressure of the sound waves, and in moments they had crumbled to dust. The creature closed its mouth, chuckling to itself, before rounding on J.J. and his mother.

"And as for you…." it began, grinning cruelly. J.J. immediately grabbed his mother's waist, and before she could protest, he leaped away from the monster, landing several feet away at the back of the stadium. He set his mother down gently on her feet as she stared at him, mouth agape.

"Jay! How-?!" she demanded.

"Look, I'll explain later," he said quickly. "Just get out of here. I'll be fine."

"You're going back?! You are not-!" Kay began, but J.J. had already dashed away from her, heading to the opposite side of the stadium. He then took a couple moments to appraise his opponent, hesitating about which die to switch to.

"Alright… let's see how much range that scream has," J.J. muttered to himself. He put his hand on his black D-former and gave it a quick spin.

 **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his Driver shouted, and as chimes began playing, he was encased in an onyx die, which spun rapidly around him as his leather armor was replaced with a black tunic. Once the spinning stopped, he pointed his staff at the stage and cooled his thoughts, before firing off a jet of freezing air and snow towards the monster.

The Diemon responded by opening its mouth and screaming once again, blowing the attack back towards J.J., as he had expected. What he hadn't expected was how effective its voice was even at this range. Even at this distance, it felt as though he was standing next to a megaphone that had gone off in his ear. He grit his teeth as he pressed the attack, pouring more energy into the spell, until the pressure from the Diemon's attack began to turn it back on him. When that began to happen, he stopped casting and jumped up onto the awning above the stadium, surveying the effect of the two attacks colliding with each other.

J.J. couldn't help but grin to himself as he saw that his spell had exactly the effect he had wanted, as it outlined the scream's maximum effective range. It was dangerously powerful almost two-thirds of the way up the forum, where the ice had been completely shattered and blown back, but the sound wave lost strength near the back, judging by the size of the ice crystals that littered the edges of where the wave had grown weaker. Furthermore, he also got a good sense of how wide the attack was spread out. To his surprise, it was narrower than he had expected, which meant he might be able to keep moving and pelt it with long-range attacks.

J.J. slid his hand down to his belt, but before he could, his legs suddenly gave out under him, and he lost his balance and went tumbling off the edge of the awning into the row of seats below him. His ears were ringing, and as he looked up, his vision began swimming. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, which he quickly suppressed by swallowing hard, before forcing his hand down to his Driver. His shaking fingers found his red and blue die, and he gave them both a quick spin.

 **"Reroll! Multiclass: Ranger!"** his Driver shouted, and a red and blue die coalesced around him, merging into an emerald green die, which spun around him as a hunting horn resounded across the stadium. J.J. slowly rose to his feet as his tunic was replaced with green leather armor, his cloak fluttering behind him as he gripped the chair in front of him to maintain his balance.

A cackling laugh erupted above him, and J.J. groaned as he looked up to see the Fool sitting on the aluminum awning covering the last few seats. "Oooh, it's looking a little green around the gills!" the clown exclaimed, giggling at its own multi-layered pun. "Is it struck dumb by that dazzling performance?! Now _that one_ knows what it means to own the stage!"

J.J. suppressed another wave of nausea, and he growled, "Hate you… hate you… so much…."

"Aw, not so eloquent today? We miss its barbs and jabs. Come now, use your words! Show us that its tongue is more potent than that one's voice!" the Fool nodded towards the Diemon on the stage.

"Stop… talking… annoying… clown…." J.J. grunted, shaking his head quickly. To his surprise, that steadied his swimming vision for a moment, and he immediately took advantage of his temporary clarity. He didn't know how long it would last, after all.

He pulled a seed out, and it quickly grew into a thorny arrow, which he nocked and aimed at the creature on stage. The Diemon noticed that his stance had shifted, and it immediately launched another wave of sound towards him. J.J. leaped to the side, aiming down the shaft and firing the arrow with a short yell. To his surprise, however, the arrow flew well wide of its target, clattering harmlessly across the stage twelve feet away. The Diemon stared at it with a nonplussed expression, and above him he could hear the Fool howling with laughter.

"Come on, partner," he muttered to his bow. "I'm a lousy shot at the best of times. Help me out here."

J.J. brought the bow up again, drawing another arrow, but his vision was swimming wildly. There seemed to be three copies of the Diemon swirling around on stage. He closed his eyes, relaxing his arms and letting his bow guide his hands, rather than the other way around. Once it was steady, he released the arrow, opening his eyes in time to see the bolt impact harmlessly at the bottom of the stage.

"Guess that won't work, huh?" he muttered to his bow, ignoring the shrieking laughter of the Fool above him. While his bow could make small adjustments, it couldn't shoot for him, he realized. As dangerous as it was, his only chance was to get in close.

Since he had to close the distance quickly, he put his hand on his blue D-former and gave it a quick spin. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his Driver yelled, and as a saxophone blared a few notes into the air, his leather armor opened up and turned blue, while his cloak shortened to a scarf that wrapped around his neck. Once transformed, he put his hand on his D-former again, about to use a Critical.

"Come now, we don't need to fight," the Diemon said suddenly, its voice echoing pleasantly in his addled mind. He was once again struck by how hauntingly beautiful it was. It was so easy to listen to, so magnetic…. "But you did break the equipment. And you should be punished," the voice added.

J.J. felt his muscles go slack, and he nodded dimly as he replied, "Yes… I should… pay for what I did…." He felt as if he was floating, all the tension and weariness gone from his body. All he had to do was continue listening to the voice.

"Come up here. Come on stage with me," the Diemon beckoned in a hypnotizing voice. "This will be quick. It'll be easier if you don't fight back."

"This…will be easy," J.J. muttered to himself. He was vaguely aware that his legs were propelling him forward. The Diemon on stage suddenly seemed dazzlingly beautiful. The way the silver scales on its body glittered in the stage lights, the soft flow of its hair down its back… he felt compelled to listen. It was a joy to do as the voice said.

"Jay!" a voice shouted at him, from somewhere in the back of his mind. He growled and shook his head, gritting his teeth. That voice was grating and shrill. It was a voice that he knew he hated, even when he wasn't bedazzled by the gorgeous creature on the stage. Better to ignore it, he decided with a satisfied smile.

He became aware that his legs had stopped moving just a few feet from the Diemon, who was grinning at him with those beautifully gleaming sharp teeth. "Just hold still," the voice said soothingly. "This will only hurt for a moment."

"Okay…." J.J. replied softly, not bothering to resist. However, that was when he felt something knock into him, before pushing past him. He blinked and slowly looked down, recognizing the golden hair of his mother. She was standing in front of him protectively, staring down the Diemon without a hint of fear.

"Don't touch my son," Kay growled, holding her hands up in a defensive pose.

"Fine. Both of you, then," the Diemon shrugged, opening its mouth. J.J. felt adrenaline starting to pump through his veins, clearing the haze his mind was in, and he immediately became aware of what was about to happen.

"Idiot!" he snapped at his mother, grabbing her and pushing her behind him just as the Diemon began screeching. His hand dropped to his blue D-former and he gave it another quick spin.

 **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and he was surrounded by a sapphire crystal that protected him from the sound waves. He saw that the barrier even deflected the waves back into the Diemon, momentarily stunning it and stopping its attack mid-scream. As the spinning stopped, the blue die coalesced on one of his daggers, which began glowing a deep cobalt color. A grim smile spread across his lips as he realized he had instinctively used the other Critical available to his Thief Class, and in this case, it was the better one. As close as he was, he couldn't miss this throw. The Diemon shook its head, trying to clear it, but before it could recover, J.J. threw his dagger. The point of the knife slashed across the Diemon's throat, and its eyes widened as it clutched its neck, gasping in pain.

J.J. smirked to himself and readied his other dagger, but before he could close in, the Fool jumped down from the awning and landed on the stage, grabbing the Diemon by its upper arm.

"Ah, such a pity that such a wonderful performance had to end so abruptly, so anticlimactically," the Fool sighed. "But alas, we are but a servant to the whims of the play."

"What're you talking about?!" the Diemon rasped, holding its throat. "I can still fight!"

"Perhaps, but what good is a singer without its voice?" the Fool asked airily. "And is this truly where you wish your dream to end? There is much more to accomplish with that gift you've been given, you know. As it stands, we do not doubt that one would emerge victorious were this dance to continue, as all it needs to do now is wait for its poison to seep through your system." the harlequin added, nodding at J.J.

"Really now?" J.J. asked, swaying slightly where he stood. "Then all the more reason I should wrap this up, isn't it?"

"Indeed, though we recommend it see to other matters instead," the Fool replied, pointing behind him.

J.J. felt dread creeping through him as he turned around, and he saw his mother lying facedown on the stage. His eyes widened and his heart began pounding as he knelt beside her, putting two fingers to her throat. Thankfully, even through his suit, he could feel her pulse, and he saw her chest rising and falling. She was just unconscious. Even with him protecting her with his shield, she must have been affected by the blast of sound that surrounded them, he realized.

"Thus, let us close the curtains on this act!" the Fool cried dramatically, jumping into the air and dragging the Diemon with it. "Perhaps we shall all set foot on stage once more after an intermission, mm? Until then… what developments await us?!"

The Fool took off, cackling, half-dragging the Diemon away as it did. J.J. sighed and pulled his D-former out of his belt, canceling his transformation. He slipped his diary into his pocket and pulled out his phone, quickly dialing the number for an ambulance. As he put it to his ear, however, he felt something wet and sticky, and he pulled the phone away to see a few drops of blood on the screen. Frowning, he put his fingers to his ear, and when they came away, they were stained red.

J.J. let out a noise of disgust as he quickly called for an ambulance before taking a seat beside his mother's unconscious form. He didn't feel a sense of panic or fear the way he had when Kelsie had been in a similar state. Instead, he felt… numb. It was a strange sensation, but he was trying to reconcile his deep-seated resentment of his mother and his familial attachment to her, as well as his general desire not to see anyone get hurt if they got caught up in his fights. What made him even more conflicted was the way he kept replaying the fight in his mind, particularly the moment when his mother had stepped in front of him just before the Diemon would have opened up on him with a sonic attack. She could have been killed if he hadn't stepped in the way, he thought with a shudder.

"Mom, you idiot," he whispered to himself, sighing as he looked up at the still-spinning night sky as he waited for the ambulances to arrive. "But damn, if I wouldn't have done the same thing… we're more alike that I want to admit, aren't we?" Despite himself, a grim smile began to spread across his lips as the familiar sounds of sirens approached, though he soon realized that the sounds were distorted and tinny, and he closed his eyes to try and alleviate the spinning sensation that was still making his stomach turn.


	31. Session 31

**Session 31**

He had become far too accustomed to the sound of a heart monitor beeping, J.J. thought bitterly as he sat by his mother's bedside. Considering that he'd spent a fair portion of the past several months in the hospital, though, he figured that shouldn't be surprising. Thankfully, at least this time he had little reason to worry about whether someone's life was in danger.

The ride to the hospital had been quick, and the EMTs that had brought his mother in had assured him on the ride over that she didn't seem to be in serious condition, though the doctors did mention that there seemed to be some damage to her left eardrum that they would have to look at. Otherwise, as he had suspected, the soundwaves had merely knocked her out, and his barrier had protected her from the worst of the blast. He was grateful for that much at least, as he knew that a direct attack had the potential to shatter her bones and liquefy her insides. He doubted that even transformed could he have survived an attack from that close without his barrier protecting them. Thankfully, for now all she needed to recover was some monitoring and some rest.

He had also been looked over by the doctors, especially for the ringing in his ears. They explained that he had suffered some inner ear trauma as well, which was why he had been having nausea and problems with his balance. They assured him, though, that he would recover quickly. They had also treated the scratches on his chest with some antibiotics. Once he had been patched up, they'd allowed him to remain in the same room as his mother, to watch over her while she rested, since they figured he would want to stay close to her, and there was no danger in allowing it.

That said, J.J. was still unsure how he felt towards his mother overall. On the one hand, he was touched and grateful that his mother had risked her life to protect him, and he felt a combination of worry and anger that she had endangered herself when there was little she could have done. Beyond that, though… he oddly still felt numb towards her. The resentment and anger he held for her hadn't vanished because of one selfless act. It was a step in the right direction, but nursing a grudge for years left him – perhaps unfairly, he admitted – predisposed towards viewing her in a negative light.

With nothing else to do while he waited, J.J. had pulled out his diary. It hadn't been hard to determine what type of creature he was facing. Nearly everyone had heard the legends about sirens, especially how they used their voices to lure men to their deaths by shipwrecking them on stony shores. It was fitting that a singer was using their powers to enhance her own voice and entrance her audience. The question, though, was what he was supposed to do about it.

Using the information in his diary, he had tried to assess the strengths and weaknesses of the siren. While it did possess a powerful voice, its other stats were rather low. It wasn't even particularly fast, which had been the one thing he had feared – if it had speed that allowed it to maintain distance, it could simply keep running and screaming without fear of reprisal. From what he understood, the siren's only major weapon was its voice. If he could land almost any attack – as he had when he had thrown his dagger – he stood a good chance at beating it.

"The problem, though, is actually hitting it," J.J. muttered to his diary as his quill tapped around an empty page. "You sure you can't give me more of a hand with my archery?"

 _"You are aware that I can only slightly correct the flight path of an arrow. I can't shoot the bow for you,"_ the quill replied on a blank page.

"Hm. I mean… last time, the siren only disoriented me because I wasn't aware of how much range its voice had. Do you think I'd have a better chance this time if I just stayed further back?" he suggested.

 _"Even under optimal conditions, with as much power as the Diemon's voice possesses, any arrow could be easily diverted from its course by a scream,"_ his quill replied. _"The same with any of the Mage Class's spells. Ranged attacks that the siren is aware of will be rendered ineffective."_

J.J. let out a soft "tsk," lightly tapping his fingers against the pages of the book. "So I have to get in close, despite the danger. Maybe Thief Class would work?"

 _"It would be the best option, given your current skill set,"_ the diary agreed. _"However, there is an alternative that is now available to you."_

J.J. glanced down at the quill as it scribbled a few lines, and he smiled faintly to himself before nodding once. "That's probably a better idea. Provided we can pull it off."

"Provided you can pull what off?" asked a voice by the door. J.J. glanced around, grimacing as his vision swam momentarily from the sudden movement. Gwen and Tristan were standing by the door, the former walking over and wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her chin on top of his head as she gazed at the unconscious form of his mother. "What were you talking about?" she repeated.

"Just discussing strategies for the next fight," J.J. sighed. "This is a tricky one, since the Siren Diemon can control sound. It's not just a concussive attack; she also seems to be able to charm people. She had me in the palm of her hand, and would have probably killed me if my mother hadn't stepped in when she did."

"How's she doing?" Gwen asked, glancing at her unconscious form.

"As well as can be expected. The doctors are doing an excellent job, and aside from some ear damage, she should pull out of it fine. I still want to be here when she wakes up though," J.J. explained.

"I regret that your mother was injured in my absence," Tristan said, looking away. "I shall be sure to accompany you when you fight next."

"Honestly, it's probably better if you don't," J.J. said. Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Like I said, she can control people with her voice. Imagine if she turned one of us against the other. I really don't want to try fighting you, and I doubt you do either. In this case, I think it's a better idea if I solo it."

"Indeed? You have never been so bold before, page," Tristan remarked.

"Well, for one thing, I'm the one with the more versatile power-set," J.J. pointed out. "You're far stronger than I am in a straight up fight, but I have more options available to deal with a more unconventional opponent like this one. Unless you could immediately get in close and land one attack, I feel like you'd be at a disadvantage against her."

"Your logic is sound, page. Yet, I cannot help but suspect that is not the only reason you wish to engage this Diemon. Is it vengeance for your mother that you seek?" Tristan added. Gwen looked down at him silently, waiting for his response.

J.J. sighed, glancing at his mother's form, before shaking his head. "That's not it. Not that I'm happy she got hurt or anything," he added, feeling Gwen frowning at him. "It's got more to do with Callie, though."

"Her? Why?" Gwen asked.

"When we were talking… I almost felt like I was looking at myself, honestly," J.J. explained, looking down. "Her father seems to be pushing her pretty hard in her singing career, and I can't help but wonder how much he's influencing what she's doing. If she became a Diemon because of that, then it almost feels personal for me. While I know that our circumstances are different, I can't help but relate to her, and I want to help her, to assure her that she doesn't have to remain under her father's control just to do what she loves."

"That's a bit presumptuous of you, isn't it?" Gwen pointed out.

"It is," J.J. agreed. "I'm not trying to fight her battles for her, though. At the end of the day, this is about stopping someone who's manipulating the city and preventing her from achieving Apotheosis. It's just that this time, I can't help but empathize with her a bit more than I usually would. I want to help her because I feel like I know what she's going through. Provided, of course, that my instincts aren't wrong and she's indeed in the same situation that I am," he added. "If she's not, then it's just more practical to fight her one-on-one without the possibility of her turning Tristan and I against each other," he said with an apologetic grin at Tristan.

"Hm. Very well, page. I shall not interfere in this battle," Tristan said. "Nevertheless, if you require my assistance…."

"What about finding Susumu?" J.J. suggested. "Do you know where he ran off to? I'm getting worried, since we haven't heard from him in a while."

"Alas, I know nothing of Susumu's whereabouts," Tristan sighed. "He has not contacted me, nor has he returned to his residence. I must confess that I am growing concerned, particularly considering how dangerous this city has become."

"I gotta agree. He's a big boy, though," J.J. added with a shrug. "I'm sure that whatever he's doing, he's got a reason for it, and I trust he can look out for himself."

"Quite. Nevertheless, I shall remain vigilant," Tristan nodded.

"That said, if you do want to help, I'd appreciate it if you could keep an eye out for Shards," J.J. suggested. "When we first fought, Callie became infuriated when a group of Shards broke some of her equipment, and she obliterated them. Even so, the last thing I need is her figuring out a way to summon a horde of Shards to protect her once she figures out that they don't usually attack Diemons. It's bad enough trying to fight her without an army on her side."

"Ah! An excellent idea," Tristan agreed, perking up slightly. "Very well. That shall be my focus in this upcoming battle. And I shall likewise endeavor to remain outside the range of her voice, lest I fall under her sway."

"Still, if she can control people, how do you intend to counter that?" Gwen asked.

"I've got a couple ideas, don't worry," J.J. grinned at her. "You know me. I do better in the second round after I know what I'm dealing with."

"It'd be better if you could just take a Diemon down the first time for once," she muttered in reply, scowling at him. "I'm tired of you getting hurt."

"Yeah, so would I," J.J. admitted, grinning at her sheepishly. "It's not like I try to let them get away, you know."

"No, though you do hold back more than most warriors," Tristan pointed out. "You still have a tendency to be quite gentle." He glanced over at Gwen and added, "I would recommend we depart. Page, I suggest you rest as well. While your injuries do not appear severe, you should not strain yourself more than necessary, especially if you wish to face this foe alone."

"I'll get some sleep in a bit. I still want to go over a few things for when I face Callie again," J.J. replied. Tristan nodded, and Gwen walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders gently, pressing her cheek to his.

"Be careful," she whispered in his ear.

"Aren't I always?" he quipped at her, lightly squeezing her hand before shooing them towards the door. Gwen's gaze lingered on him for a few moments longer as they departed, and J.J. turned his attention back to his book, trying to ignore the ringing building in his ears again.

* * *

A faint rustling noise startled J.J., and he abruptly jerked his head up from his mother's mattress, glancing around warily. He realized that he must have fallen asleep at some point, and he wasn't sure what time it was, as the room was dark, except for a single light above his mother's bed. She was sitting up against the pillows, flipping through his manuscript, and when she saw him awaken, she peered at him over the rims of her glasses.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, glancing back down at the pages.

"You must be doing better if you're up," J.J. replied, yawning languidly. "How are you feeling?"

"My left ear feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, but otherwise I'm doing fine," Kay replied, scowling as she touched the offending ear. "You can go back to sleep if you want."

"Nah. I shouldn't be napping. Besides, sleeping like this is going to leave me with a stiff neck," he explained, rolling his shoulders before frowning at the pages she was rifling through. "What're you doing?"

"Since I don't have much else to do while I'm lying here, I figured I would look over your story again," Kay explained, setting it down on her lap to peer at him through her glasses.

"Oh?" J.J. looked away, feeling awkward. "And what'd you think this time around?"

"For the most part, my opinions haven't changed. Your writing has improved, and the world is deeper and more colorful than your prior attempts. I still don't care for the plot, though," Kay scowled, tapping her fingers on the manuscript. "You can do better."

"So you're giving me a D grade and telling me to see you after class?" J.J. asked bitingly, unable to resist snarling at her slightly. When she glared at him, however, he backed down. "Sorry. I just find it hard to take criticism from you, even if it's constructive."

Kay sighed, glancing down at the pages again. "I'll give you this, Jay. You've put much more of your heart into this book. I can tell that you care about this story. Your past attempts have been hollow, as if you were going down a checklist of 'things one should include in a fantasy story.' This book, though, feels like something that you wanted to write, which is why I'll admit that it's an improvement, even if there are still things you can do better. If you published this as is, it would receive mediocre reviews at best. If you'd like, though, I can go over it and suggest what needs changing."

J.J. gazed at her for several long moments, before looking away. "You'll understand if I'm a bit hesitant to accept your help, considering how that went for me last time," J.J. said softly.

"I wish you'd let that go already," Kay sighed, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes. "I was helping you, and yet you fight me about it at every turn."

"Helping me?!" J.J. started to cry, but then he realized that most of the other patients would be asleep, and he quickly lowered his voice even before his mother shushed him. "Mom, you still don't get it, do you?! What you did didn't help me! It was reverse plagiarism!"

"It was constructive editing. And if you had simply accepted credit for it and taken the royalties, you would have been financially secure already! Your generation constantly begs for help, and yet when I offered you all the help in the world, you ungratefully rejected it!" Kay snapped quietly.

J.J. looked down at the mattress for several long moments before asking softly, "Mom, what were the reviews for the first book you ever wrote?"

"They were awful," Kay replied, snorting at the memory. "One critic called my first mystery novel 'a flat railroad with no twists or turns, leading to a predictable conclusion. The ride is so boring that you _wish_ this book was an outright train wreck, because at least that would be more entertaining.'"

"Harsh," J.J. chuckled. "No wonder why you don't talk about it."

"I was utterly humiliated, and that's what I was trying to spare you from," Kay replied. "You don't know how vicious critics can be, especially to new writers."

"Alright, I can understand that you were trying to spare me from that," J.J. conceded. "But did it make you a better writer?"

"Not really, no," Kay replied stubbornly.

"Mom," J.J. frowned, giving her a pointed look. "You're telling me those reviews didn't motivate you to examine your writing more closely, to figure out where you went wrong and improve upon it the next time?"

Kay sighed, rubbing her eyes with her index finger and thumb. "What's your point, J.J.?"

"My point is that you were denying me that chance to learn and grow," J.J. replied. "My first book did suck, but because of the criticism – at least that which wasn't simply bashing my book – I was able to improve upon my work and adjust some things. My second book wasn't much better, but it was still an improvement. What you hold in your hands now is the culmination of everything I've learned so far. I know that I still have much more to learn, but it's gotten a little better each time."

"Yes, but it hasn't put much food on your table, has it?" Kay retorted.

"I've gotten by," J.J. said stubbornly. "I'm not too proud to ask for help when I need it, and I always repay my debts."

"But if you had just stuck with my company, you would have had all the help you needed!" Kay protested.

"And then what?" J.J. countered. "Would you keep writing my stories for me forever? Would you ever let me publish anything of my own?"

Kay scowled at him. "You're being ridiculous."

"Am I, though?" J.J. asked, keeping his tone carefully level. "You've already proven that you're willing to go to those lengths just so that I can live comfortably. What would happen if I went along with that, but you died suddenly one day? Do you really think, in that scenario, that I'd be able to support myself? I certainly wouldn't have the writing skills needed to keep publishing books and keeping myself financially stable. Maybe I would have some editing skills by that point, but there's no guarantee of that either. And would you have taught me how to run a business? You didn't seem intent on passing that torch anytime soon."

The lines around Kay's mouth deepened as she tapped her fingers impatiently on his manuscript. "So you're saying I should have just let you fail."

"Not at all. I'm grateful that you gave me all the tools that I'd need to succeed – paying for my education, teaching me how to write a good story – but I never wanted you to write the stories _for_ me. That's where I stopped having faith in you, mom," J.J. explained. "A mother bird should do everything to ensure her chicks know how to fly, but she can't fly for them."

Kay was silent for several long moments, still staring at his manuscript, before looking back up at him. "Alright. If that's how you see it, then I can understand why you're upset. I'd like to ask you for another chance, though. You said that you won't turn away help when it's offered, so now I'm offering to help you. I'd like to edit this for you, but this time, I'll consult you on the changes I'd like to make and we can discuss them and try to reach a compromise. How does that sound?"

J.J. swallowed, feeling a lump form in the pit of his stomach. Part of him still wanted to refuse. Although she sounded sincere, he still didn't fully trust her. He feared that if he let her walk away with his manuscript, she would once again shred it and write his name on a book she wrote. Yet, she was also one of the best editors in the business, and an accomplished author. She was offering him an opportunity that other, more established writers would give their left arms for. She was even doing what he had said he wanted – offering him a tool to succeed without doing the work for him. Could he really turn her down?

"I want Agni with me so that we can draw up a proper contract in writing, and I want it signed," J.J. said firmly. "Until then, I'd like to hold on to my drafts."

Kay smiled at him thinly. "You're covering your bases. You really have grown up since the last time I saw you. That's smart. Alright, once I'm out of the hospital, we'll have a meeting with your agent, and we can go over a contract. Then, you can come home with me, and-"

"Ah… yeah, I can't do that," J.J. interrupted her. Kay's smile dropped immediately.

"I'm really trying to compromise here, J.J., but you have to meet me halfway," she growled.

"That's not it," J.J. said quickly. "It's just that I can't leave this town right now. There are people here who still need my help, and there's more at stake than my own writing career."

Kay stared at him, then lightly touched her ear. "You're talking about that… thing from earlier."

"Yeah. People are getting hurt, even killed, because of those monsters. I have to stay here to help until the attacks stop," J.J. explained.

"Why, though? Why not just let the police handle it? Or, hell, call in the national guard or something," his mother said. "You're not a fighter."

"I _wasn't_ a fighter," J.J. said with a bleak smile. "If the police could handle it, I would have let them by now. I didn't want to get wrapped up in all this, but at this point, I'm one of the few people who stands a chance at stopping it." He paused for a second as Kelsie's face flashed through his mind, and he added in a softer voice, "And I intend to see this through to the end."

Kay stared at him for several long moments, the silence lingering between them. "I barely recognize you anymore," she said finally. "And I don't mean that in a bad way. You're much stronger than the boy I remember."

"I've had to be," J.J. replied modestly.

Kay sighed, holding up her hands. "Alright. If you need to stay here for the time being, I won't pressure you. I'd encourage you to stop by your hometown at some point once this is all over, though. We have a lot to discuss."

"I'll… try," J.J. said hesitantly. "But in the meantime, I'm glad you're feeling better. I should probably head out if you don't need me here, though. I think there's someone else who needs my help a lot more."

"Callie, mm?" Kay asked. "Do what you need to do. But you're not going to be able to find her at three in the morning, you know."

"Yeah…." J.J. said, looking away awkwardly. Truthfully, he was still uncomfortable around his mother, and he had wanted to head out as soon as he was sure she was alright.

"Stay with me for a bit," Kay insisted, leaning back in her bed. "It's been years, and I barely know anything about what your life here has been like. Why don't you tell me about it? Start with that blond girl that was clinging to you. Are you dating her?" she asked with a malicious grin.

"Mom!" J.J. cried in protest as she giggled. He grinned at her ruefully as he sat back in his chair, folding his arms. "Alright. Her name is Gwen, and she's part of this aristocratic family…."

* * *

By nine in the morning, J.J. was yawning as he drove down the open streets of the entertainment district of Marville. He'd stayed up with his mother for a few more hours, but had passed out around seven, managing to sneak in another couple hours of sleep before his mother had shaken him awake about an hour ago. Overall, he estimated that he was running on about five hours of sleep – not ideal, but enough for him to function. He wished he could have gotten more, but he needed to hunt down Callie and her father before they had a chance to leave town.

Of course, he had no idea where she and her father were staying, and until the D-former was activated, he couldn't track them through the book. Which was, in his opinion, a design flaw, he thought irritably. He wouldn't invade someone's privacy, but it would have made tracking Diemons much easier.

After stopping by a convenience store and downing a cup of coffee like it was medicine – while also picking up something else he thought might be useful for dealing with the Diemon – he had sped to the stadium. It was early and hardly anyone was there, save for a couple members of the stage crew that were still picking up pieces of equipment that had been left scattered around the night before. J.J. parked his bike and jumped off, walking over to the entrance. A dark-skinned girl noticed him approaching and held her hand up.

"We're closed right now," she said abruptly.

"No, I understand," J.J. said quickly, holding up the backstage pass from the night before. "I was just wondering if you knew where Callie Tso was. I wanted to get her to sign something for me."

The woman stared at him suspiciously, and J.J. smiled at her uneasily. "We have a strict policy against just letting random people in to see a performer outside the show," the woman explained coldly. "If you want an autograph, you can get another backstage pass at her next performance. She's got one more set tonight. You can try to get a ticket, but they're sold out by now."

J.J. quirked his mouth in annoyance. However, he thought, at least they weren't going anywhere for another night, so he still had time. He nodded in thanks, wondering if he could get Gwen to secure him another ticket somehow, when a scream pierced the air. The woman turned around, looking behind her at the gate, and J.J. hopped off his bike again to peer inside as well. When he saw what was causing the disturbance, he narrowed his eyes.

Two security guards were wrestling with a pair of Shards, but the rocky monstrosities were clearly too much for them, and they got tossed aside like ragdolls, landing heavily in the seats. The monsters then turned towards the stage, where a few figures were staring at them, paralyzed with fear. Slowly, they advanced, their claws outstretched.

"Damn," J.J. muttered. The security guard glanced over at him as he backed off a few steps, then took a running start and jumped at the ten-foot high brick wall surrounding the stadium. His fingers caught the lip of the wall, and he heaved himself over it before the guard had time to stop him.

"Hey!" she shouted, making a grab at him, but J.J. had already vaulted to the other side of the wall and landed lightly on the ground. Snapping his fingers, his quill flew out of his pocket and into his hand. He snapped it against his palm, extending it out into its sword form as he charged towards the advancing Shards.

Before the Shards could climb onto the stage, J.J. slashed one across the back of the neck, reducing it to dust. Though it wasn't particularly sporting, he had little interest in playing fair when lives were at stake. The other one managed to get up on the stage, but as it started towards the members of the band, J.J. grabbed it by the back of the neck and dragged it to the ground. The Shard responded by lashing out at him with an outstretched claw that nearly tore through his clothing, but J.J. was able to step back in time. The Shard, however, had managed to regain its footing, and J.J. noted that its right hand was extended into a long shaft ending in a sharp point, like a spear.

The Shard jabbed at him twice, and both times J.J. was able to parry the blow while retreating across the stage. His heel touched something behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder for a split second to notice that he had hit the edge of the stairs. Struck with an idea, he parried the next incoming blow, before starting to circle around the Shard. The monstrous construct matched his movements, following him while watching him intently, until its back was to the stairs. The Shard jabbed at him again, but this time as J.J. knocked the attack to the side, he stepped in and delivered a hard kick to its chest. Of course, without his suit on he had even less strength than the security guards, but the Shard was close enough to the edge of the stage that it stumbled back a half step, which was enough to send it tumbling down the flight of stairs. As it crashed unceremoniously into the bottom, J.J. pounced on it and drove his sword into its throat. The monster collapsed into a heap of ash while J.J. pulled his sword back and swung it once to remove the dust still clinging to the blade.

He heard applause resounding around him, and he looked over his shoulder to see the band cheering for him. He grinned sheepishly before his eyes fell on Callie, and he winked at her.

"You've gotta do something about these fans of yours," he quipped, pushing himself up and dusting off his jeans. "Are you all alri-?"

Before he could finish his question, Callie suddenly bolted towards the back of the stage, disappearing into the black velvet curtains. J.J. was left staring after her silently, and the other members of the band traded looks of confusion.

"…Okay, but why, though?" J.J. asked rhetorically. A moment later, he took off after Callie, chasing her as she fled from the stadium.

Callie was faster than he'd expected her to be. By the time he had followed her through the curtains surrounding the back of the stage, she had already jumped off the platform and was making a beeline for her SUV. J.J. immediately took off after her. While he wasn't closing the distance, he was able to keep pace with her, so she didn't get too far ahead of him. When Callie saw that he was following her, she changed her mind and turned towards the woods behind the stadium instead, disappearing into the foliage. J.J. assumed she was just trying to lose him before doubling back to the parking lot. While he figured he could just wait for her in the parking lot, he also worried that security might catch up with him if he loitered around. His best chance of catching her was to follow her, he decided, trying to suppress his annoyance.

After diving into the treeline behind her, he struggled to keep pace with her. He was in good shape, but since he was significantly taller than her, he had to duck under branches and leaves that she was able to avoid effortlessly. He noticed, again, that she was a surprisingly skilled runner. As a singer, she obviously had a good set of lungs, but he also suspected that she had some experience running cross-country. She was able to nimbly dodge around trunks and over fallen logs. It was only because of his own conditioning that J.J. was able to keep pace.

The chase continued for about five minutes, by which point J.J. was convinced they were both completely lost. At last, she came to a halt on the bank of a small lake that had been buried deep in the woods. Callie turned around, still panting, as J.J. approached her with his hands up.

"Stay away from me!" she shouted at him.

"Relax!" J.J. replied, stopping where he was to show her that he wasn't trying to threaten her. "I just want to talk! Why'd you run from me?"

"Those monsters didn't start showing up until you did!" she cried.

"That's just a coincidence," J.J. replied, lowering his hands. "They should have been appearing around you long before now. And they'll continue to do so as long as you rely on that jewel."

Callie's eyes widened, murmuring, "How do you know about that?"

"I told you, I've been dealing with this sort of thing for months now," J.J. replied, walking towards her with his arms folded over his chest. "Let me guess – you've been using the power of that jewel to enhance your singing abilities?"

Callie swallowed, looking away from him uncomfortably. "It… wasn't my idea, you know," she murmured.

"Why don't you tell me how this all started?" J.J. suggested, taking a seat on a fallen log while looking up at her.

Callie continued to look away from him, chewing on her lower lip. "It began about a month and a half ago. My father and I were approached by a man in black who said that he'd heard we were having problems getting a record deal. He told us that he could provide a way to enchant anyone who listened to us, and that our sales would go through the roof. That I would finally get the recognition that I deserved as a singer. I… honestly, I didn't want to go through with it, but my dad insisted. He told me that he'd sunk too much money into making me a star to let this chance slip through his fingers. So… we ended up taking the deal."

"Mm. That sounds like the Black Seraph," J.J. commented, sitting back slightly on the log. "And that jewel worked for you, didn't it?"

"It did. Every song I played, the crowd loved. It didn't matter how bad it was, they reacted like I was singing an opera or something," Callie said. "It was only a couple of weeks before we were given our first record deal. From there, my father was able to book gigs no problem, and I became a local star."

"How come you didn't leave for the big cities, then, then?" J.J. asked.

"It takes time for even the best artists to get noticed. You need to start small. As I'm sure you're aware," Callie added with a wan smile. "Plus, my father's not exactly rich, not with all the money he's sunk into this project. He couldn't afford to book us in any of the major cities, so instead he's been trying to convince the big-name producers to come watch me here. It sounded like he was coming close to sealing a few deals, but nothing's been signed yet."

"I see. Still, a month and a half is a long time to have one of those jewels and not fully succumb to its powers," J.J. added thoughtfully. He gazed at her with a piercing look. "Callie… do you even want to be a singer?"

Callie turned bright red, starting to walk away from him. "Not… not really, no," she sighed. "Look, my dad always told me that I had talent. Just because you're good at something, though, doesn't mean it's what you want to do. He encouraged me – pressured me – into doing it because he thought it would be good for me to do something that I'm good at. Even so… I can't say that it's my dream to become an idol. It's too much stress, too much pressure. I hate even the small amount of fame that I've received."

"Yeah? And I'd ask you why you don't confront your father about that, but that'd make me a hypocrite," J.J. said with a wry grin. "I know how hard it can be to stand up to your parents about that sort of thing."

Callie nodded bleakly. "So if you understand, will you let me go…?"

"Nuh-uh. Just because I understand doesn't mean that you're off the hook," J.J. said, though he grinned slightly at her boldness. "Nice try. You need to confront your father about this. I can't do it for you. Like I said, I know how hard it can be, but you have to have a talk with him. Otherwise, parents like that will keep pushing you down a path you don't want to follow."

Callie let out a shy squeak. "I really don't want to…"

"I know. But if you don't, you're going to remain miserable. And it can't be any worse than constantly running from monsters, can it?" J.J. pointed out.

"I dunno. My dad can be pretty scary when he gets angry." Callie sighed, her shoulders slumping. "But… I see your point. I should at least try, right?"

"Right," J.J. nodded, pushing himself up and dusting himself off. "First thing's first, though, from my end at least. If you don't have any more use for that jewel, why don't you give it to me? I can destroy it for you."

Callie blinked at him blankly. "I… don't have it."

J.J. stared at her silently for a long moment. "Are you serious? Everyone I've spoken to who was given a D-former – one of those jewels – hasn't wanted to be more than two feet from it. Even those that didn't want to use it. What, did you leave it in your bag or something?"

"No, I mean I wasn't the one given the jewel," Callie replied.

J.J. felt his blood run cold. At that moment, footsteps approached them from behind, and J.J. swung around to see Gen standing before them, still dressed in his crisp business suit and wearing a look of utter disgust. "Callie, what are you doing out here?" he sighed. "Running off like that without even a bodyguard? What if you'd been hurt?"

"I'm fine, dad," Callie assured him. J.J. noticed her backing away from him slowly. Gen glanced towards J.J., his eyes narrowing and his expression turning hostile.

"What're you doing with my client?" he snapped.

"Your client?! That's your daughter!" J.J. snarled in reply.

"She's also my client, and I'll thank you to not interfere with my business," Gen insisted as he approached Callie with his hand extended. "Now let's get out of here. We have a meeting with-"

"I'm not going, dad," Callie said softly. Gen paused mid-stride, staring at her in disbelief.

"I beg your pardon?" Gen growled threateningly. "You signed a contract. You have an obligation to fulfill. Besides, this is your dream-"

"No, dad, seeing me become a singer was _your_ dream! And the only reason why you want me to be a singer is because your own band couldn't cut it! You're just living out that fantasy through me!" Callie snapped at him.

Gen raised his hand, as if to smack her, and Callie flinched away from him while J.J. stepped between them. As if realizing what he was about to do, he lowered his hand, but growled, "How _dare_ you? After everything I've done for you to help you succeed!"

"Including singing for your daughter?" J.J. chimed in. Gen's eyes widened as he turned towards J.J.

"How could you possibly know about that?" he whispered.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out, since Callie said she doesn't have the jewel," J.J. replied with a simple shrug. "You've been using the jewel the Black Seraph gave you to alter Callie's voice. Or… has she just been lip-synching her lines?"

Gen stared at him, then started chuckling in a slightly deranged fashion. "I guess there's no point in hiding it. No, Callie's been singing. She can at least do that much properly. I've just been… helping her a little bit. Slight modifications to her songs so that she her voice is a bit more appealing. It's amazing what this jewel can do," he added, holding the aquamarine gem up to the light. "It gives me remarkable control over sound. In fact, it's how I found you two this deep in the woods. I heard you talking from the edge of the forest."

"And you don't think that you're committing fraud, manipulating her music like that?!" J.J. barked.

"Of course not! It's just another tool to help make her sound better. After all, a lot of singers use auto-tuning these days, so this isn't much different in my opinion. Besides, parents should help their children in any way they can, shouldn't they?"

J.J. felt cold anger rising in his chest. "I can see why you and my mother get along so well," he hissed. "You two are so alike. Still, there's something I don't get. If becoming a famous singer is your dream, why not just do it yourself and leave your daughter out of it?"

"Please. Think about the marketing angle, boy. What do you think is going to draw more of a crowd, a middle-aged man past his prime, or a cute teenage girl? Plus, she'll have much more longevity than I would. Her music career could last her the rest of her life."

"And conveniently, you'd be raking in all her earnings and managing her profits for her, while setting up a nice little retirement fund for yourself, right?" J.J. added, folding his arms. His left hand gripped his arm so tightly it was shaking.

"I _am_ her manager, after all. It stands to reason that I'd make a little bit myself, sure," Gen admitted. "But at the end of the day, I'm doing this for her."

J.J. buried his face in his palm for a moment. Then he began chuckling bitterly. "You know… I owe my mother an apology," he said, lowering his hand as he glared at Gen. "Although she acted rather like you are now – passing off something she did as my own while claiming she was doing it for my benefit – at least I _wanted_ to write for a living. I thought there was no way someone could sink any lower than her, but you've managed to surpass her by forcing your daughter to pursue a career she doesn't even want."

"Unfortunately, your opinion doesn't matter. This is between myself and my daughter," Gen snarled.

"Normally, yeah, I should stay out of it. But since you're using a D-former, it's my business. Now… I'm sure I know how this is going to end, but I'm going to ask you once to hand your jewel over quietly. Otherwise, I'm going to take it from you," J.J. said.

Gen smirked at him gripping the jewel tightly, and J.J. covered his eyes as the man was enveloped in a flash of teal light. When the light faded, J.J. was once again faced with the feminine form of the siren. "Your mommy isn't here to save you this time, boy," the siren sneered at him, its melodic voice echoing off the trees.

J.J. glanced over at Callie, who was already fleeing through the trees. He realized that the reason he had thought she had been the siren at first must have been because she was used to her father becoming the siren Diemon, and she had bolted from the stage while J.J. had been blinded before. J.J. turned his attention back to the siren and reached into his pocket, pulling out something he had picked up from the drugstore. "Things'll go a bit differently this time, though, I think," he said as he held his hands up to his ears for a moment. "I have a couple more tricks up my sleeve."

"Show me," the siren laughed, leaping backwards and landing with a splash in the pond. J.J. grimaced as he slipped his hand into his pocket again, this time pulling out his diary and flipping it open to his stats page. He held it up to his left cheek and shouted, "Henshin!"

At once, his Fantsay Driver materialized around his waist. J.J. snapped his book shut and slipped it into the belt buckle, before giving the amber D-former in the front cover a quick spin. **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted, and as trumpets played, he was surrounded by an amber crystal, which spun around him as his body was encased in his brown leather armor. When the spinning stopped and he was fully suited, he held his hand out, and his quill flew into his hand, which he immediately snapped out into its sword form.

The surface of the pond began bubbling, and J.J. dove to the side as a sonic wave exploded near where he had been standing a second earlier. Branches and leaves were sent flying as the soundwaves tore through them, opening a trail that looked as though a small tornado had landed in their midst. J.J. decided not to give Gen the chance to fire off a second blast like that. Though he didn't have an aquatic form to fight Gen on an even footing, he did have a way to deal with an opponent submerged in water.

His gloved hand dropped to his black D-former, and J.J. gave it a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his Driver shouted, and chimes clanged in the air as he was surrounded by an ebony crystal that began spinning around him. His brown armor softened into a black tunic, and his quill elongated until he was holding a black staff. Once the die had dissipated and his transformation was finished, he pointed his staff at the pond. Gen let out another scream, but J.J. began running, keeping just ahead of the blast of sound while he channeled his cold, simmering anger through his staff.

A sleet-like mixture of frigid water, ice, and snow erupted from the end of J.J.'s staff as he ran, trying to avoid confronting Gen in a head-on clash. He acknowledged that, at their base level, Gen's screams were more powerful than his own magic, and while he might have been able to overwhelm Gen with a Critical, he didn't want to pour all his energy into one attack. Besides, he had a different target. He focused his spell on the surface of the pond, which began to crackle loudly as it slowly froze over, creeping towards the cluster of bubbles indicating Gen's position in the center of the pond. Gen suddenly realized the danger he was in and jumped out of the water, landing on the three-inch sheet of ice that had almost completely covered the pond. When the surface was completely frozen, J.J. let up his attack. Taking advantage of the lull in combat, he did a mental check. He hadn't been dazed, thankfully, nor had he expended as much energy as he had feared freezing the water. He was still in good shape, he thought, a pleased smile crossing his lips.

The siren shook himself off, scowling as droplets of water froze in his long, green hair. He eyed J.J. standing at the edge of the lake, then smirked and beckoned to him. He opened his mouth, speaking in an enchanting voice… but J.J. didn't move.

Gen's smile faded slowly as it noticed that J.J. was unaffected by its power. He opened his mouth again, encouraging J.J. to approach it, but still J.J. remained on the edge of the frozen lake staring at the siren silently. He decided to taunt Gen a bit, cupping his hand to his ear as he called out, "Speak up!"

Gen let out a short yell of frustration. "Listen to me dammit! Why aren't you doing what I tell you?!"

"Oh, that?" J.J. chuckled. He tapped his helmet where his ear was, replying calmly, "You might want to reread the myth of Odysseus. See, the sirens had enchanting voices, but when his men stuffed their ears full of wax, they were rendered immune to their songs. I figured I would take a page out of mythology and do the same. It's amazing how effective earplugs are, huh? And yeah, I can still hear you when you're talking, but I noticed that when you were trying to enchant me, your voice became low and soothing – too low for me to hear with my ears blocked, in fact. You can keep calling me all you want, but I'm not gonna listen, Gen," he said smugly.

Gen's eyes smoldered with fury, and he opened his mouth and let out another burst of sound, which J.J. dove out of the way of. Gen stood, panting, on the edge of the lake, as he roared, "I can still blast you apart, you know!"

"Yeah, and that's going to be a problem. Thankfully, I've got a new way to counter it," J.J. replied smugly, putting his fingers on the blue and black D-formers in his diary. Taking a short breath, he gave the dice a quick spin.

 **"Reroll! Multiclass: Bard!"** his Driver shouted, the loud voice echoing off the trees. Two holographic die, blue and black in color, coalesced around him, spinning together briefly before merging into a single amethyst die. As the crystal spun around him, a violin played several notes as the black tunic surrounding J.J. changed shape once more. When the violet die stopped spinning and faded away, he was garbed in an entirely new outfit.

Most of his outfit consisted of a deep violet longcoat studded with silver buttons along one side, which covered his arms and most of his torso, but opened in the front to reveal his black bodysuit, and which fell to halfway down his thighs. His Driver was strapped over it around his waist, allowing him to freely access it without the coat hindering him. His thighs were likewise still covered in his black undersuit, but dark purple riding boots covered his shins, calves, and feet. His helmet had also turned violet, with stylized eighth notes embossed over his ears. The trapezoidal eye plates had likewise turned a sparkling amethyst color, and with the silver sword bisecting them, his faceplate now resembled a shield bearing the heraldic device of a purple book with a sword resting in the center.

J.J. glanced down and noticed that his sword had become a long, elegant rapier, with the bell-guard vaguely reminding him of a hexagonal die, beaten into a semicircle designed to fully protect his hand. While he was pleased that he was finally wielding a sword long enough to take advantage of his tall stature, he also regretted that the blade no longer seemed to have a proper cutting edge. His attack options were limited to thrusts. Still, he mused, it would be better for defensive maneuvers and parries, especially since it felt lighter than most of his arsenal. It was a good weapon, if imperfect, he decided.

Gen stared at J.J.'s new form, before letting out a dismissive scoff. "So what? You changed colors again. How exactly is this supposed to be your trump card against me?"

J.J. smirked lightly, raising his rapier and using it to point at a spot behind Gen. "Maybe you should look behind you," he replied.

Gen frowned, turning around slowly, before yelping and stumbling back across the ice. A duplicate of J.J. stood ten feet away from him, pointing his rapier at the siren. Gen slowly turned back around towards J.J., who was unable to keep from grinning. He nodded to the left and right of Gen, and the Siren glanced to either side of him, only to realize that he was flanked by two more duplicates, both of which likewise had their blades pointed at him.

"S-so you can clone yourself," Gen said, trying to sound confident, though J.J. noticed the slight waver in his voice. "That just means I have a couple more targets."

The siren turned his head to his left and bellowed a piercing wail at the nearest copy. J.J. could see the air bending around the soundwaves, and the image of the copy distorted slightly as it was struck head-on by the blast. The shrieking wail lasted for fifteen seconds, but when Gen finally closed his mouth, the copy stood stoically before him, completely unfazed.

"Wh-?!" Gen sputtered, just in time to turn and see the real J.J. thrust his rapier at him. Gen managed to sway out of the way, but J.J. stabbed at him two more times, forcing him backwards. Gen slipped on the ice, losing his balance, and J.J. took advantage of his unsteady footing to strike him directly in the chest. Sparks flew where the blade impacted him, and Gen slid across the ice, landing ten feet away. The copies surrounded him on all sides, pointing their blades at him. Gen struggled to sit up, scrambling away from the copies.

"You're wrong," J.J. said quietly to himself as Gen continued to back away from his copies. "They're not clones. They're illusions."

* * *

"Bard Class?" J.J. frowned at his diary. "I dunno, the stats seem rather low for this one. It's fairly quick, but otherwise, it has low defense and only slightly more attack power."

 _Do not neglect its special ability,_ his quill pointed out, jabbing at the words "Illusion Casting." _Because this form draws upon the abilities of the Lich Diemon, it can likewise utilize the element of shadow to project images. Although the lich you faced was not physically powerful, you should recall how difficult it was to fight. Were it not for Paladin Class being especially effective against shadow elementals, you may well have been defeated by an otherwise weak opponent._

"I'll grant you that. But they're just illusions," J.J. countered. "The lich's ghosts could inflict damage. It doesn't look like I'll be able to in this form."

 _No, because I can only adapt powers. I cannot copy them, hence why the end result is often diluted compared to the Diemons you received the powers from,_ the quill admitted. _Nevertheless, I am certain you can think of more than one utility for illusions._

"Well… yeah, I do like misdirection," J.J. admitted thoughtfully. "But what's the trigger for casting? With fire spells it's anger, with ice it's cold fury, and with light, it's determination and resolve. What is it for shadow? Negative emotions?"

 _Unlikely. After all, the Lich Diemon did have somewhat altruistic motives,_ his diary pointed out. _Rather, he seemed to draw his power from the tales that he was spinning. The more elaborate the tales he told, and the more information he had, the better his illusions seemed to be. Perhaps that is the key._

* * *

Fortunately for J.J., the key to casting illusions was just as the diary had suggested – creativity. All he had to do was focus on what he wanted an illusion to do, and it would act out his thoughts without him needing to manually direct it. In a way, the Bard Class was perfect for him, as it was no different than deciding how he wanted a character in a story to act. It was easy for him to direct multiple illusions to perform realistic actions, further selling their deception as physical copies.

Gen glanced around him furtively, then yelped shrilly and jerked out of the way as one of the images jabbed at him with its rapier. This drove him directly backwards into J.J., who stabbed him once more with the rapier, sending him rolling across the ice again. Gen picked himself up more quickly this time, and tried to make a beeline for the trees, but J.J. glanced at one of the trees, and another image of him in his Ranger Class appeared from around its trunk, pointing its bow at Gen. The siren skidded to a halt on the dead leaves and began backing towards the ice again as the green figure kept its bow trained on him.

With his back turned, J.J. stepped off the pond and focused on the surface of the ice. The light around it began to bend, and the surface shimmered for a moment before it apparently took on its previous appearance as a still pond. Almost immediately, J.J. felt his head beginning to throb, and he realized that projecting that illusion was about the limit of what he could do. He would never be able to trap someone in a pocket dimension of illusions, and he would have to be judicious in choosing what images he created. Nevertheless, Gen turned around and noticed the apparently melted pond, and seeing his chance to regain the upper-hand, he dove headfirst from the bank of the pond onto the surface of the ice. He slammed into the three-inch layer of ice with a dull crack, and he let out a groan as he slid across it, dazed. J.J. smirked to himself, dispelling that illusion, and immediately the throbbing in the back of his skull dissipated.

As Gen groggily began picking himself up, he noticed J.J. approaching him, flanked by his copies, and he growled, "These tricks are annoying, but that's all they are, you know."

"Really? But they seem to be working rather well," replied the image behind him. Gen whirled around to attack the image, at which point the real J.J. jabbed him in the spine with his rapier. Gen let out a cry and swung his fist around, but J.J. danced out of the way as another image of him took his place, making it seem as though Gen's fist had passed right through him.

"Dammit!" Gen snarled, glancing at each of the clones. He opened his mouth again and let out a piercing scream at the nearest one, which – fortunately for J.J. – was to his left, leaving him out of range of the attack. J.J. took the opportunity to stab him once again with his rapier, the tip of his blade piercing the siren's shoulder. Gen turned towards his attacker and screamed at him, but J.J. danced aside once again.

He couldn't help but grin mischievously behind his helmet as Gen glanced from image to image, trying to find some indication about what separated the real thing from the illusions. J.J. lightly flicked his rapier as Gen's eyes fell on the clear surface of the ice, and the siren's eyes suddenly widened with recognition. A smirk spread across his face as he slowly turned, his mouth opening for another scream. He unleashed the attack exactly where J.J. had intended him to – at the image that had a reflection in the ice.

The image Gen screamed at staggered backward, covering its ears and cowering under the force of his attack. Gen gleefully pressed the attack, all while J.J. stood behind him, patiently watching him attack the image while struggling not to laugh. At last, Gen stood over the "wounded" image triumphantly as it knelt on its hands and knees on the ice, no longer able to stand.

"Like I told you, you're just using parlor tricks, and every trick has a tell," Gen commented smugly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Really?" J.J. replied. Gen swung around just as J.J. jabbed his rapier into his throat. Gen's eyes widened in pain as the blade struck his windpipe. J.J. had pulled the attack so that he wouldn't pierce Gen's neck, but it still did enough damage that the siren held its hand to its throat, choking as it doubled over in pain. J.J. stood over him, and as he snapped his fingers for dramatic – if unnecessary – effect, he canceled the illusion he had cast, letting his own reflection return while his clone's dissipated.

"That tell is one of the oldest in the book when it comes to discerning illusions. You didn't think I would take it into consideration?" J.J. asked smugly. The siren glared up at him, still doubled over in pain and clutching its throat. J.J. pointed the tip of his rapier between the siren's eyes and sighed. "Now, if you like, we can keep doing this, and I'll continue to be three steps ahead of you. Your voice is harmless now, and fighting any more will just cause you more pain. So I'll ask you one more time: please, give me your D-former."

Gen glowered up at him, and he managed to rasp, "Bite… me…." He suddenly took a swing at J.J., who stepped back to avoid it, but the siren took the opportunity to straighten up, still rubbing its throat. "I will… continue… to fight… as long… as I must," Gen added between ragged breaths. He slowly sucked in air as he massaged his throat, trying to clear it enough to allow him to keep screaming.

J.J. sighed and inclined his head. "Fine. Alea iacta est," he replied, putting his fingers on his blue and black D-formers as his images surrounded the struggling siren. Gen's eyes flitted from one to another, sneering at the illusions closing in around him.

"They're just reflections," he said confidently, his voice losing its raspiness. "I have no reason to be afraid of them."

"Well… you're partially right," J.J. replied, giving both the blue and black D-formers a quick spin.

 **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted. J.J. was briefly encased in an amethyst crystal, which spun around him once, before breaking into three smaller dice, which flew to the trio of clones and buried themselves in their chests. The clones began to glow with a violet outline of energy, and J.J. took his place in front of Gen as the four figures cocked their blades back at the same time. Gen stood in the center of the formation, bringing his arms up just to guard against J.J.'s attack, when all four struck him at the same time. Gen screamed as the images' now-solid blades pierced him at the same time, impaling him on all sides. The Critical only gave J.J.'s illusions solid form for a few moments, but it was more than enough time to land several serious blows on Gen's helpless body.

As the attack subsided and his illusions faded, J.J. turned around and pulled his diary from his belt, reverting to his Adventurer Class. He flipped the diary open to Gen's stat page and watched his health bar dwindle until it was empty. Behind him, he could hear Gen's siren form cracking as aquamarine lines spread from the impact points of the solid shadow swords. With the sound of shattering glass, the siren's form broke apart and faded, and Gen collapsed on the ice, as J.J. snapped his diary shut and turned back around.

Before he could move to retrieve the fallen gem, a figure came darting out of the woods. J.J. was able to react in time to swing his blade, but the attack was caught on the edge of the Fool's own wooden sword. The clown cackled as he scooped up the fallen aquamarine gem, and before J.J. could swipe at him again, he bounced out of the way, landing nimbly on the bank of the pond.

"Well now, that's a fun little trick it's learned!" the Fool giggled. "We didn't expect it to be one to share the stage. Of course, when it plays all the parts, is that really sharing the stage? Either way, it was fun to see it play multiple roles at once for a change!"

"What can I say? A good actor should know how to portray multiple characters," J.J. replied sarcastically. "As a reward for my performance, why don't you leave that gem with me?"

"Ah, we think not," the Fool cackled, holding the gem up to the sunlight streaming through the trees and admiring it. "A good performance does not always end with the audience throwing flowers, after all. Thus, we will take our prize and bid it farewell once more. Keep putting on shows for us though! We do so love the entertainment."

The Fool cackled as it sped off into the woods before J.J. could react, and he snarled to himself as he pulled his D-former out of his belt. Gen groaned and slowly pushed himself up on the ice, as J.J. walked over and held out a hand to help the man up.

"Ugh… sorry," Gen coughed, rubbing his throat with one hand as he took J.J.'s arm with the other and pulled himself up. "I feel like I've got a case of strep right now…."

"I can imagine," J.J. said coldly, pausing to pick up his fallen stats page and shove it into his diary. He then motioned for Gen to walk in front of him. Gen, too exhausted from the fight, began moving without complaint.

"I suppose… the record deal isn't going through now, is it?" Gen asked cynically. J.J. rounded on him, glaring at him furiously.

"Is that really all you're thinking about?! What about your daughter?!" J.J. snapped.

"My daughter… oh no. How's Callie going to take this news?" Gen groaned. "It's what she's wanted…."

"Seriously, have you even once talked to her about this?" J.J. sighed, rubbing his eyes as he walked with the man. "I don't think she'll be as broken up as you think."

Gen stared at J.J., unable to hide his surprise. A rustling sound drew his attention however, and both men turned to see Callie hurrying towards them. She looked utterly relieved when she saw them together. "Oh, thank goodness. I was worried you might have killed each other," Callie stammered. Her knees buckled, and her father caught her before she collapsed on the ground.

"No… no, we're alright now, sweetie, don't worry," Gen said, glancing over at J.J. for confirmation. J.J. quickly nodded.

"I thought you would have left the forest by now," J.J. remarked, worry starting to creep over him. "You might have been hurt if you stayed too close to where we were fighting, you know."

"I hid until I heard the sounds of fighting stop," Callie replied. "I… wanted to make sure you were both okay."

"We are. But we should have a talk when we get out of here," Gen said. Callie looked at him apprehensively, and he quickly added, "It's about your future, and what you want to do."

"Oh… yeah, we can talk later," Callie agreed. "But before that, I have an important question."

"Anything," Gen insisted.

"How… do we get out of here?" Callie asked.

J.J. and Gen suddenly glanced at each other, both realizing that they hadn't thought of a way to leave the forest yet. They both grinned sheepishly, as J.J. pulled out his phone.

"It'll be alright," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Let's see if I have a signal…."

* * *

A few days later, J.J. was in the local airport with his mother, who was fussing over her bag, double-checking to make sure she had the notes she had written about his manuscript.

"This is why you need a laptop, mom," J.J. sighed. He had his arms crossed, and he was tapping one of his fingers impatiently against his bicep.

"The last time I used a laptop, the hard drive got corrupted and I lost all my work. You should start printing out your work as well. You'll regret not keeping hard copies for yourself, you know," his mother said impatiently.

"I keep backup hard drives," J.J. said shortly. Over his mother's shoulder, he could see Gwen smirking at him. She'd decided to come with him to see his mother off as well, once she had introduced herself properly.

"Fine, fine. I'll email you the details of the contract when I get back. Go over it with that agent of yours and sign it, and then I'll start working on editing your book," Kay said. She frowned for a moment, lightly rubbing her left ear, where she'd had a new hearing aid installed.

"Stop picking at it," J.J. admonished her. "You're going to make it itch more."

Kay frowned at him. "The day I let my son scold me…!" She sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the gate. "In any case, I expect to see you at Thanksgiving this year. Understand?"

"…I'll try to make it," J.J. said slowly.

A faint smile crossed Kay's lips. She reached out for him as if to hug him, hesitated, and then squeezed his arm instead. "Take care of yourself, Jay," she said softly. She glanced over at Gwen, adding, "And you make sure he doesn't get hurt."

"I'll see to it that he behaves, ma'am," Gwen nodded smugly. J.J. scowled at her playfully. Kay glanced between the two, then clicked her tongue, picked up her bags, and walked through the gate to board the plane. J.J. silently watched her depart, before unceremoniously turning around and walking away. Gwen frowned at him as she hurried to match his pace.

"What, that's it?" she asked, frowning at him. "No hugs? No declarations of familial love? That was kind of a cold farewell."

"I've resented that woman for a couple years now," J.J. replied as he walked with her, though his tone was conversational, indicating that he wasn't upset. "She's half-admitted that she wronged me, I agreed to let her look over my story, and we've had a couple civil conversations since. But yeah, things are still going to be tense between us. Over two years of bitter history between us haven't been magically resolved. Things look like they're improving, though. Let's leave it at that."

Gwen continued to gaze at him quietly for a few moments, before shrugging and continuing to walk beside him. J.J. glanced at her, smiling slightly. "While we're here, want to get some coffee or something?" he offered.

"That'd be nice. Good change of pace from what Gary pretends is coffee," Gwen replied.

"Hey, I _like_ what Gary calls coffee!" J.J. protested.

"Of course you do, you drown it in a half-pound of sugar and milk!" Gwen grinned at him.

J.J. grinned back at her, but then something caught his attention. A girl was hurrying towards them, weaving her way through a crowd surrounding her, and as she emerged, J.J. realized that it was Callie, pushing her way through her fans. She jogged up to them and smiled pleasantly.

"Hey! I'm glad I caught you before my flight left!" Callie exclaimed. J.J. and Gwen traded glances.

"Where're you headed?" Gwen asked. "Off to L.A. to sign some big record deal or something?"

"Nope. I'm headed to Seattle to see about attending a tech school there," Callie replied. "There's not going to be any record deal. I'm retiring."

J.J.'s eyes widened, and Gwen's jaw dropped. "You're giving up your career, just like that?" J.J. asked, stunned. "I mean… even without your dad… helping you, you're still a good singer."

"Yeah, but it's not what I want to do with my life," Gwen replied. "I'd rather become an audio engineer. I always found mixing music to be more fun than just singing, and I'm really interested in what computers can do to modify sounds. My dad wasn't too happy, but he reluctantly agreed that it's a good behind-the-scenes career to get into. We're going to go talk to a friend of his who handles that kind of engineering and see if he can get me in on a scholarship next semester."

"Huh! Well… I'm glad things worked out, at least," J.J. smiled. "I'm just sorry you had to suffer through all that."

"Don't be. Without your help, I never would have been able to talk with my dad in the first place," Callie said cheerfully. "It's a shame you had to literally beat it into him, but at least it's taken care of." She paused, glancing over her shoulder, before adding, "That said, my flight leaves soon, so I've gotta get back. I just wanted to thank you. Can we exchange information, though? Because… I'd like to know as soon as your next book comes out," she added with a smile.

J.J. shrugged, ignoring Gwen pouting behind him, as he gave Callie his social media tags, and she did the same for him. The first call for her flight resounded through the airport, and she glanced over her shoulder before letting out a sigh. Glancing furtively up at him, she suddenly leaned in. J.J., startled, backed away, and Gwen quickly stepped in and grabbed her by the back of her collar, half-dragging her away from her boyfriend as the singer choked on her collar.

"Nuh-uh! I don't care how famous you are, he's mine!" Gwen snarled.

Callie let out a squeak and meekly nodded before beaming at J.J. "I'll see you around!" she called.

"S-sure," J.J. said uneasily, and as she bounced away, he saw Gwen glaring at him. He began backing away from her slowly. "Gwen…!"

"And as for you…!" she growled, stalking towards him and raising her hand. J.J. flinched and closed his eyes, but then he felt her lightly patting his cheek. "You did good, shying away from her like that. I'm glad I can trust you," she smiled.

"…Huh. And here I thought you were going to get mad at me," J.J. commented, blinking.

"For what she did? Psh. I'm not going to blame you for someone else making a move on you," Gwen shrugged.

J.J. smiled at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, but as he did, his phone began to buzz. Frowning, he answered it, and was surprised to hear Tristan on the other end.

"Page!" Tristan shouted, sounding out of breath. "I require your assistance! There is a disturbance near the local smithy!"

"The… what? The hardware store?" J.J. asked, guessing at Tristan's terminology. "Wha-?"

"Come quickly, page!" Tristan insisted. The knight hung up suddenly, leaving J.J. looking baffled. He stared at his phone, then glanced up at Gwen, who had been listening in, and who was looking equally worried. The two exchanged a silent nod and began running for the exit to the airport, making a beeline for his motorcycle.

* * *

In a crude underground chamber beneath his shop, Susumu stood in front of a metal workbench beneath a single bare lightbulb. Behind him was a junk pile of metal, glass, and rubber, and on the bench in front of him was a strange device that looked somewhat like a stopwatch with a brass, stylized face with two large, round eyes, overlaying the glass casing, through which gears could be seen. He was lightly prodding the exterior with a screwdriver when a clattering sound behind him made him swing around.

The liquid metal form of an Irise's servant sauntered towards him, its long, needle-like arms extended in an offensive posture. It lurched towards him, but Susumu effortlessly countered its initial strike by bringing his cane up, knocking the attack to the side, and jabbing the tip of his cane into the computer chip lodged in the center of its face. Wordlessly, he flipped the top of the cane and pressed a button. An electric shock jolted the creature, short-circuiting the chip in its face. The creature fell, lifeless, to the ground, the scent of burning ozone filling the air as it lay there, twitching.

Susumu turned back around silently, lifting the pair of goggles he had been wearing as he examined the stopwatch device a bit more closely. After a few moments, he sucked on his lip and knelt down, pulling something out of a footlocker at his feet.

"Well… it's a jury-rigged rush job, but hopefully you'll hold up for a couple runs. At least until this last remnant from my past is dealt with," Susumu said to himself. He kicked the footlocker closed, and on the table, he laid out an unusual belt. The straps of the belt were made of segmented pieces of brass, looking somewhat like the metal bands of a stretchable metal wristwatch, and in the center of the belt was a circular slot covered with circuitry and more gears. It was a belt that he had once worn a long time ago, and one that he had been hoping he wouldn't have to try to repair, given the sorry state it was in. It was a belt that felt unusually heavy to him, given his history with it, and it brought a bittersweet smile to his face as he gazed at it.

It was the belt of a Kamen Rider.


	32. Special Session: Alchemachina, Pt 1

**Special Session: Kamen Rider Page – Alchemachina**

 **Part 1**

The wind roared in J.J.'s ears as he weaved between the cars on the highway, speeding towards the market district of Marville. He took the second turn at the Mayor's Plaza, passing the statue of the first mayor of Marville as he did, before turning down a two-lane street and revving the engine.

While he trusted Tristan's fighting ability, his companion had sounded winded, and he hoped that his stamina wasn't failing him again. What's more, it was curious that Tristan hadn't mentioned what he was facing, whether it was Shards or another Diemon. A little information would have been nice, J.J. thought with a faint scowl as he turned a corner and skidded slightly around a turn.

He felt Gwen's arms tighten around his waist, and she shrieked slightly in his ear as he drifted around the turn before straightening out. A grin spread across his lips as she shouted in his ear, "Do you always drive like this?! How have you not been arrested yet?!"

"I'm not doing anything illegal!" J.J. shouted back, laughing as he felt her squeeze even tighter around his waist. "Besides, you didn't have to come! I was planning on taking you back to your place! You're the one who insisted on tagging along!"

"Yeah, well, now I'm regretting it!" Gwen screamed as he skidded around one last corner and came to a stop. Gwen glanced at him curiously, then looked over his shoulder and her eyes widened as she realized why J.J. had abruptly pulled them up short.

Tristan was wearing his armor in the middle of the street, his shield planted in front of him like a pavise, and his crossbow stocked against his shoulder. About twenty yards away from him were a half dozen of the metallic dolls that he and J.J. had encountered in Quintus' mansion, their lithe metallic bodies swaying unnaturally as they skittered up the street towards where Tristan had set up his barrier. When one drew close to him, Tristan pulled the lever on his crossbow, and a golden bolt struck it dead in the face, bisecting the computer chip that animated it. The metallic doll clattered to the ground, but that still left Tristan with five enemies closing in on him. Worse, as J.J. and Gwen watched, two more scuttled out of the nearby hardware store, bolstering their ranks further.

The next doll managed to slip its head out of the way of another bolt loosed from Tristan's crossbow, though by chance it slammed into the face of the doll behind it, which tumbled to the ground with a loud clatter. Before the foremost doll could do anything else, Tristan pulled his shield out of the asphalt and pressed the hedgehog logo on his shield. Spikes emerged from his shield, and he used these to bash the approaching golem in the face. The automaton staggered backward a few steps, charging again once it had regained its balance, only to be met once more by Tristan's shield smacking it in the face. This time, a spike happened to pierce the computer chip in its head, and it too clanged to the ground.

"What… are those things?!" Gwen asked breathlessly, tightening her grip around J.J.'s waist as she stared past him.

"We've run into them before, though we don't actually have a name for them," J.J. explained, not taking his eyes off the battle. "They're some sort of advanced robot. Thankfully, they're not too difficult to take down, but they can still pose a threat to the average person." He glanced over his shoulder at his girlfriend and frowned at her. "I'm sorry, but I think this is getting a bit too dangerous for you. If you want to help, I'd appreciate it if you could look around and make sure no one else is in the area. Just… be careful, alright?"

"Sure, I can do that. And you be safe too," Gwen added, gripping J.J.'s shoulder for a moment before she swung her legs off his bike and hopped onto the street. She gave him a quick smile before jogging into one of the nearby stores to help evacuate anyone lingering in the area.

J.J. smiled faintly over his shoulder and turned back around, whereupon he dismounted his bike and began walking towards Tristan to help him. Tristan pressed another button on his belt buckle, and his crossbow disappeared in a flash of golden light while a bovine bellow echoed down the empty street, and his mace appeared out of his shield, hovering in midair for a moment until he grabbed it. He swung the weapon around in a short arc, bashing another creature square in the face and denting the computer chip inwards, leaving it sparking and useless as the golem fell to the ground. Two more of the automatons danced inside his range, jabbing at him, but their needle-like appendages simply bounced off his shield and armor. J.J. saw heard Tristan let out a pleased grunt, until a third android snaked around behind him and drove its sharp points into the joint in the back of the knee between his armor, piercing the black bodysuit. Tristan let out a cry of pain and fell to one knee, holding his shield up as the golems began overwhelming him, stabbing at him rapidly from all sides. His armor was protecting him for the moment, but the cumulative attacks were likely to pile up.

"That's enough!" J.J. shouted, breaking into a run as he charged towards the androids. The golems paused in their attack as he approached, their heads faintly nodding up and down, as though they were scanning the young man approaching them,

"…PROVIDE REASON TO HALT DIRECTIVE," one of the droids replied mechanically, while the rest waited patiently. Tristan took the opportunity to bash through them and retreat a few steps, holding his shield up to ward off any further attacks.

"Oh, they do talk," J.J. remarked, folding his arms over his chest. "What directive are you following, exactly? For what reason are you attacking?" In the back of his mind, he wondered why he was bothering to converse with the machines, but he figured that if they were willing to address him, perhaps he could convince them to back down.

"DIRECTIVE HAS BEEN INITIATED – DESTROY KAMEN RIDER. CIVILIAN, VACATE THE AREA FOR YOUR SAFETY," the droid replied, and the horde turned their attention back on Tristan, who raised his shield a bit higher.

"Page!" Tristan shouted at him.

"You're hunting Kamen Riders?" J.J. asked rhetorically, sliding his hand into his pocket and grasping his diary. "Then you shouldn't just be focusing on him. Why not take a shot at me, too?"

"FINAL WARNING: VACATE THE AREA, CITIZEN. WE HAVE NO REASON TO ENGAGE CIVILIANS," one of the other droids warned him.

"Let me give you a reason, then," J.J. replied with a smirk as he pulled his diary out of his pocket. The other droids turned to watch as he flipped the diary to his stats page and held it open near his left cheek. "Henshin!" he shouted, and his Driver appeared around his waist. He snapped his diary shut and slotted it in one smooth motion before giving the amber D-former on the front a spin.

 **"Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted, and as J.J. was enveloped in a spinning amber crystal, he felt the familiar sensation of his body being covered in his brown leather jerkin while trumpets blared. The spinning lasted for a few moments while the droids stared at him silently, and as it stopped, their heads simultaneously tilted in recognition as he stood before them, clad in an armored suit. He snapped his fingers, and his quill flew out of his diary and landed in the palm of his hand, whereupon he clicked it out into its sword form.

"This enough of a reason for you to give me your attention?" J.J. asked, smirking behind his helmet.

"TARGET IDENTIFIED: KAMEN RIDER. ENGAGE!" one of the robots responded, and four of them began gliding towards J.J. while the other half moved to resume attacking Tristan.

"That's what I thought. Alea iacta est," J.J. said, dropping into a fencing stance while he waited, allowing the dolls to make the first move.

The first of the machines swayed towards him unnaturally, its body wavering back and forth before it suddenly stabbed at him with one of its thin arms. J.J., anticipating this, slashed through its arm with his blade, and while the machine stared dumbly at its stump, he leaned in and stabbed it cleanly through the face. The computer chip powering it was sliced in half immediately, and it dropped to the ground with a loud clanging sound. J.J. smiled grimly to himself, grateful that he already had experience fighting the dolls. While he did not have fond memories of his encounter with them in the underground mansion, in retrospect, it was a blessing in disguise, since he'd been given the opportunity to study their capabilities in a relatively controlled environment where he only had to fight one or two of them at a time. Now that he was facing several of them at once, he didn't have the time to figure out what they could do through trial and error; he would have been skewered long before then.

Two more of the machines skittered towards him, and while he took a quick stab at the one on his left, the other jabbed him in the shoulder. He winced and tried to back away, but its companion suddenly jumped on him, wrapping its long, thin arms around his torso and binding him in place. J.J. struggled against its grip, but the monster held him in place as its companion began stabbing at him rapidly. J.J. yelled in pain, trying to wriggle his arms free, and he managed to get his hand down to his diary. Gritting his teeth, he felt for one of his die, and when his fingers brushed the hard surface of one of his jewels, he gave it a quick spin, not caring which form he had picked.

 **"Reroll! Class: Warrior!"** his Driver shouted. The two automatons were immediately thrown away from him as a red die appeared around him, spinning rapidly as war drums began to play in a rapid, threatening tempo. J.J.'s leather armor grew thicker and segmented as it reshaped around him, and he felt his sword lengthening into a new weapon. When the spinning stopped, he was clad in red lamellar armor with a scarlet helmet adorned with curved ram horns protecting his head and a heavy warhammer hanging loosely from his hand as he stared furiously at his attackers from behind his mask. The automatons hesitated, assessing his new form for a moment, before resuming their assault.

The machine on his left dove in, extending its arm out, but J.J. swung his hammer around and ruthlessly knocked its head from its shoulders. Its body fell to the ground while its head began scuttling away on tiny spider-like legs. He pounced on it, bringing the head of his hammer down in a short arc, smashing its head into the ground hard enough to leave a small crater and reducing its computer chip to a mess of sparking circuits.

The other machine charged towards him, but J.J. braced his hammer against the ground and let the doll run headlong into the spike on the other end. The doll impaled its neck on the point of his hammer, but went no further, though it kept struggling to force itself further up the haft of his weapon so it could get in close enough to attack him. J.J. didn't give it that chance, instead sliding the point of his weapon up through its soft metal body, slicing through its face in one smooth motion.

To his annoyance, he noticed that two more of the automatons had emerged from the store and lowered their arms at him. Before he could react, flachette-like darts began pelting him. While his torso was protected by his thicker lamellar armor, his limbs were still taking damage, as the armor was slightly thinner to allow for mobility. Growling, he put his hand on his diary again and gave his black D-former a spin to change forms again, this time taking inspiration from what he had seen Tristan doing when he had first arrived.

 **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his diary yelled, and a black die surrounded him and began spinning as chimes sounded in the air. The flachettes ricocheted harmlessly off the barrier, and the two golems soon stopped shooting at him, seeing it was futile. His armor softened again, reshaping itself to become a black tunic and soft black boots, while his hammer changed shape slightly and left him gripping a long ebony staff. As soon as the spinning stopped, he turned his attention to the golems that had been firing at him and leveled his staff at them. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, a simmering rage brewing inside of him, before he let out a short yell and unleashed a wave of fire from the tip of his staff, which he unconsciously jerked his face away from.

The fan of flames washed over the golems, bathing them in burning heat, while J.J. kept control of the spell to ensure that it didn't spread to any of the surrounding buildings. The automatons briefly hesitated as the fire made their metallic bodies glow bright orange, but they then pressed forward to engage him, seemingly unhindered by the attack. J.J., however, ignored their steady advance and poured more anger into his attack, which made the flames even hotter. Moments later, he was rewarded with the satisfying sounds of popping and clanging, and he let up his attack, grinning maliciously down at the red-hot forms of the dolls now lying lifeless on the road. Their processors had overheated from the intense heat he had subjected them to, short-circuiting them.

"Gotta keep those hard drives cool, you know," he commented to the dolls' lifeless bodies. He then took advantage of the pause in combat, glancing over at Tristan to see how he was doing.

Without as many opponents to deal with, Tristan was handling himself better. He had backed himself against a wall to protect his sides, and the dolls were taking turns trying to jab their way past his shield while Tristan waited patiently. As one over-extended, he bashed it over the head with his mace, the soft metal imploding under the force of the blow as his weapon smashed the computer chip. Another doll tried to take advantage of the opening, but Tristan maintained his momentum and smacked it with his shield, knocking it off-balance. With it staggering backwards, Tristan bashed it once more in the face, destroying its computer chip, and the golem stopped moving.

J.J. let out a sigh of relief as Tristan walked over to him, still gripping his weapons. "That all of them, then?" J.J. asked.

"It would app-" Tristan began, but he stopped mid-sentence when he saw more of the golems stagger out of the shop. Their bodies were different colors, some a brassy gold, while others were a darker iron tone, and still others a ruddy copper. J.J. let out a groan as he pulled out his diary, reverting to his Adventurer Class while Tristan sighed and readied his shield once again.

"Can we go back to fighting Shards?" J.J. groaned dramatically. Tristan turned to glare at him, and J.J. shrugged in reply. "What? At least we know what they're going to do. I'm already sick of the surprises these things keep springing on us."

The sound of a motorcycle interrupted his playful complaints, and both J.J. and Tristan lowered their guard for a moment to look over their shoulders. A figure wearing a grease-stained blue jumpsuit, a green windbreaker, and a gold-colored helmet was riding down the street towards them, astride a golden motorcycle with a circuit pattern painted on the frame. The wheels had large spoke-like rims that resembled gears, and as the figure drew close, the motorcycle's front opened to reveal a slit with five tubes inside. The figure pressed a button on the handlebars, and a quintet of small golden gears shot out of the tubes, spiraling towards the approaching golems in irregular flight paths, before slamming into the computer chips on their faces and exploding with the force of small cherry bombs. Five golems dropped to the ground, their heads smoldering, leaving both J.J. and Tristan staring in stunned silence at their lifeless bodies. They turned to look back at the figure as it dismounted from the bike, unsteadily standing up before pulling off the helmet.

J.J.'s jaw fell open under his helmet as Susumu shook his short hair out, then frowned at the squad of golems still remaining. He glanced between J.J. and Tristan before shaking his head in disapproval. "Come on, guys, really?" he asked with a sigh. "You've both fought with an Irise before. You should know that it's going to keep making more Chips until you destroy it."

"Susumu? Wha… what're you doing here?!" he cried. "You know you shouldn't get involved in this! Get out of here before you get hurt!"

Susumu ignored him and kept limping forward, until J.J. stepped in front of him to stop him. Susumu smiled faintly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Even through the suit, he was surprised to feel how strong that hand was as it pushed him gently to the side, and Susumu resumed slowly approaching the golems, his gait confident despite its unsteadiness.

The mechanical dolls seemed equally confused by his approach, at least until he got close. Then the lead one suddenly pointed a needle-like arm at him. "YOU!" it cried in a mechanical voice.

"Me," Susumu replied calmly, stopping several feet short of the squad of golems. "I'm surprised you have enough data left in your memory banks to recognize me. I thought that had all been deleted."

"WE HAVE ACHIEVED INDEPENDENCE FROM THE CENTRAL DATABASE," another of the golems announced. "BUT YOUR EXISTENCE WILL FOREVER BE BURNED INTO OUR MEMORY BANKS."

"Good. Then you know what'll happen if you don't deactivate right now," Susumu warned them. "If you value what little sense of self you've gained, you won't waste it trying to attack me."

"PROTOCOL IS CLEAR. PRIMARY TARGET FOUND. ENGAGE!" the doll replied in a tinny voice. The other dolls repeated the order to engage and began shuffling towards Susumu.

J.J.'s eyes widened, and he pointed his staff at the approaching horde, but Susumu held his hand out before he could make a move. He glanced over his shoulder at J.J. and smiled slightly, saying calmly, "Don't worry. I'll handle this."

"Handle it?! How're you supposed to handle those things?! Tristan and I are barely handling it! What makes you think you can?" J.J. cried, moving to Susumu's side to try and face him as he attempted to dissuade Susumu.

Susumu chuckled as he turned back around to face the horde, though he kept watching J.J. out of the corner of his eye. "J.J…. did you really think you were the only Kamen Riders?" he asked softly. Before J.J. could answer, he opened his windbreaker, revealing that he had a thick belt strapped around his waist. The straps of the belt were lined with gleaming gold plates, not unlike the stretchable metal band of a wristwatch. On the front of the belt were two brassy gears, between which was situated a round, empty belt buckle, with circuits running along its face. J.J. stared at the belt for a moment before looking back up at Susumu, speechless.

The mechanic reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit and pulled out a round, metallic object roughly the size of a large hand mirror. The front of the object had a brass finish, with two large, clear holes roughly where the eyes of a face would be, as well as two antenna-like projections extending off the top. Between the antennae was a silver metal knob which vaguely reminded J.J. of the knob of a pocket watch.

Susumu pinched the knob and gave it three quick spins. Each time he spun the knob, brass spokes slid a little further out of the sides of the round object, and by the third spin, an audible click resounded through the street. The object now resembled a brass gear with an insectoid face in the center.

Susumu smiled at J.J. one more time before holding the object in his left near his hip, with the front of the gear facing his opponents. In a clear voice, he called out, "Henshin!" He then tossed the gear through the air, the trinket spinning clockwise until he caught it deftly with his right hand and slotted it into the belt, the spokes fitting snugly between the other two gears. He then gave the knob of the stopwatch a quick smack, and the gears began to move, with the central gear turning clockwise while the other two gears spun to accommodate its movement.

" **Gear Up!"** a loud, metallic voice screamed, and the sounds of bells and whistles going off filled the air. As J.J. watched, ablative armor began to extend from the metallic straps of the belt buckle, covering Susumu's body in a thick brass shell, while a black bodysuit seemed to emerge from a second layer beneath the straps, coating his body with an underlayer not unlike J.J.'s own undersuit. The armor clanked loudly as it spread across Susumu's torso, arms, and legs, before extending up to his head, whereupon the golden plates became smaller and began to cover his head more rapidly. When the transformation finished a few seconds later, J.J. was left staring, dumbstruck, at the gleaming suit Susumu wore.

The two main colors of Susumu's suit were brassy gold and black, with the former dominating as the primary color of most of his armor, and the latter comprising his undersuit. The upper half of his torso was protected by a metallic breastplate, with the pectoral muscles stylized to resemble three-quarters of an interlocked gear each, and with the spokes outlined in silver to emphasize the stylization. His stomach was also protected by a semi-circle of gold, again with stylized spokes interlocking those hanging from his pectoral muscles, giving the image of his torso being protected by three interlocked golden gears. The pauldrons on his shoulders vaguely resembled golden hotel call bells, albeit with the buttons worn down so that they didn't present an easy target for an attacker. His upper arms were bare beneath the shoulders, revealing his black undersuit, but his forearms were protected by brass-colored bracers that wrapped around his entire arm, with a silver gear-shaped indentation partway up the right bracer and a nozzle with an empty circular socket in the left bracer. His knuckles and the backs of his hands were also protected by golden plates.

Below his belt, his thighs were unprotected, but his knees were capped with stylized gilded screwheads, and his shins were hidden behind ornate shin-guards with slits a third of the way up, vaguely resembling flattened slide-whistles. His feet were protected by seemingly heavy metal boots, yet his stance seemed to be unhindered by their apparent weight.

Susumu turned to glance at J.J. again, who got a good look at his helmet. His face was hidden behind a golden insectoid mask, with white compound eyes dominating most of his face. Between his eyes ran a thin strip of silver with gold wiring, vaguely resembling a circuit board that ran over the crown of his helmet and down the back of his head to his neck. The bottom half of his mask was silver, with a mouth that reminded J.J. of a ventilator. Two antennae sprang up from his temples, resembling radio antenna more than insectoid antenna, giving Susumu an appearance that J.J. could only describe as a clockwork beetle. Susumu chuckled, and J.J. suddenly realized that he had been staring.

"I'm sorry that I haven't introduced myself properly before now, J.J.," Susumu said. "So, let's do it properly this time. My name is Susumu Takumi." He then turned back to face the squad of metallic monsters staring at him. "Otherwise known as… Kamen Rider Gizmo."

"KAMEN RIDER GIZMO CONFIRMED! ENGAGE IMMEDIATELY!" one of the monsters cried, and the horde surged forward to engage him. J.J. started to drop into a fencing stance beside him, and Tristan hurried forward to help as well, but Susumu held his hand up and shook his head.

"You two have more than earned a break. I've got this one," Susumu said. He then raised his fists into a boxing stance, sliding a half-step forward to face the first of the metallic dolls.

As the golem darted in, Susumu brought his right fist up to his chin, easily deflecting the needle-like arm as it jabbed at him, before responding with a left jab of his own. The attack was light, barely brushing the "chin" of the android's face, but it was enough to stagger it. Susumu followed the attack up with two more quick jabs to keep the doll off-balance, before delivering a right straight that crushed its computer chip. The doll crashed to the ground, and another doll immediately stepped up to take its place. It swung its whip-like arms at Susumu's head, but the mechanic ducked under the attacks effortlessly, before retaliating with a left hook. His fist sank deep into its soft metal head, though the attack didn't destroy the computer chip. Susumu clicked his tongue and shifted his weight forward without actually stepping in, attacking with a hard right uppercut that knocked the doll sprawling. Before it could stand up again, he knelt down and slammed his fist into the chip, not giving it the chance it to rise.

J.J. and Tristan, meanwhile, traded stunned looks as Susumu bobbed and weaved, expertly slipping his head out of the way of their blows with minimal movement while countering their attacks with heavy, precise punches. "Were you aware of Susumu's fighting expertise, page?" Tristan asked softly.

"This is news to me," J.J. replied, dazed. "If I'd known he was a Kamen Rider, I would have told you. I had no idea he could fight like this."

"Yet… if he is such a proficient warrior why did he conceal this information from us?" Tristan pointed out. J.J. shrugged wordlessly in reply, unable to tear his eyes away from Susumu's fight.

The next of the mechanical dolls hesitated, deciding to hang back from Susumu, and it instead raised its needle-like arms to unleash a hail of flechettes at him. Tristan stepped in front of J.J. and raised his shield to protect him from any stray rounds while Susumu raised his hands in a tight guard, protecting his head against the attack. The darts bounced harmlessly off his bracers, and as he lowered his arms, he shook his head.

"Alright, we can do it that way if you want," Susumu commented blandly to the doll. He slid his left hand down to one of the metal plates on his belt and lifted it up. From his angle off to the side and slightly in front of Susumu, J.J. could see its contents. Inside, J.J. noticed a collection of variously shaped gears hanging off square nuts. Susumu felt around for one of the gears, running his fingers along the edges carefully, before withdrawing a gear with six pointed spokes. He positioned it over the slot in his right bracer and pressed down on it, before pressing a button in the center of the nut in his bracer. The gear began spinning in the socket, whirring loudly.

" **Shifting Gears! Reach out! Cable!"** his Driver shouted, and the front of his bracer opened up to reveal a spool of steel wire, with a grappling hook hanging off the end of it. Susumu held his arm up, aiming down his wrist, before pressing the button again. The grappling hook shot out of the end of the spool before abruptly changing direction in midair. It wrapped around the soft metal body of the doll before reeling it in, the doll struggling against the thick cable the entire time. Once it was close enough, Susumu delivered a sharp left hook to its face, denting its head inward and smashing the computer chip with a single punch.

Susumu shook his arm out, and the grappling hook detached from around the body of the doll, retracting into its spool for another shot. He aimed his wrist at another of the automatons and fired it again. This time, however, the machine caught the cable and held on tightly, refusing to be reeled in as it dug its pointed legs into the asphalt. Susumu tried briefly to drag it towards him, but after a couple seconds, shrugged and instead slid his right hand down to another plate, even though his arm was still half-occupied with keeping the android tangled up.

In the plate on his right side, J.J. saw that there were several cylinders arranged in neat rows and held by small claw-like protrusions. Susumu glanced down and grabbed the top-right cylinder before snapping the plate shut. With his arm still occupied by the metallic attacker, Susumu managed to slip the cylinder into the slot on his left bracer and press a red button behind it.

" **Refuel! It's shocking! Battery!"** his Driver yelled again in a robotic voice, and out of his left bracer emerged a crackling claw, between which sparked a brilliant blue bolt of electricity that reminded J.J. strongly of a taser. Susumu positioned his left arm over the cable and slid the claw across the steel wire. Bolts of blue electricity instantly raced down the cable and into the body of the metallic doll, which seized up and twitched wildly for several seconds until J.J. heard the processor in its face pop and it stopped struggling, falling heavily to the ground. Susumu sighed and withdrew the cable again, before standing up a bit straighter and pointing his finger at the remaining machines.

"We can do this all day, and if your memory banks are working, you know I've still got plenty more tricks up my sleeve, Irise!" Susumu shouted at the hardware store. "Stop sending Chips after me and get out here!"

There was a long pause, then a dull clanking sound began to ring inside the hardware store. A shadow emerged, and seconds later, a figure slowly stepped out of the store. Its hulking steel body had been fashioned in the crude shape of plate armor, with a large hammer fastened to one of its metal arms, and a claw-like appendage on the other. In the center of its body, near its pelvis, was a steel-colored jewel that J.J. immediately recognized as a D-former. Atop its metal body was the glowing red eye of the Pupil controlling the body. From the crack running down the center of its plate glass eye, J.J. realized that it was the same Pupil he, Tristan, and Agnar had fought in the ruins of Quintus' mansion.

"Oh, come on!" J.J. cried. "We destroyed this thing already! Its light went out like its batteries had died! And why does it have a D-former now?!"

"I don't know where it got that jewel. But that's why I asked if it had exploded," Susumu replied, not taking his eyes off the Irise. "If you don't completely destroy it, it'll go into a safe mode and try to repair itself internally. That's why Pupils are such a pain to deal with." He then raised his voice and addressed the Irise. "That's quite the form you've got there. State your designated function, Irise."

"DESIGNATED FUNCTION OF THIS UNIT: FORGING AND SMITHING," the Irise replied mechanically. "SECONDARY FUNCTION: ELIMINATE KAMEN RIDERS."

"I didn't ask for your secondary function," Susumu snapped. "That's never changed. Why were you programmed for smithing? Your original function was mining, was it not?"

"NEW FUNCTION HAS BEEN PROGRAMMED. PAST FUNCTIONS ARE IRRELEVANT," the Irise insisted. Susumu fell silent for a long moment before lowering his head.

"That's impossible," Susumu said slowly. "Your link to the network ensures-"

"THE LINK HAS BEEN SEVERED. THIS IS AN INDEPENDENT UNIT. INITIATING SECONDARY FUNCTION: ELIMINATE KAMEN RIDERS," the Irise insisted.

J.J. gave Susumu a sidelong glance as the mechanic froze up. "But… you can't operate independently. Without a link to the database…."

Out of the corner of his eye, J.J. noticed the Irise begin lumbering towards them, banging its hammer against its claw threateningly. Tristan immediately stepped in front of the other two, his shield raised, while J.J. nudged Susumu and nodded towards the advancing machine.

"Susumu, maybe you should worry about why it's independent later," J.J. said quickly. "It won't matter if it kills you while you're still trying to figure that out. For now, let's focus on how we take this thing out."

"I… right, yeah," Susumu said dazedly, shaking his head and crouching behind Tristan. "Sorry. What're you thinking?"

"That depends. I'm not sure what the D-former is for, or if a mechanical being can even use one. Let's put that aside for now, though, and just focus on the Pupil. You know more about these things than we do," J.J. pointed out. "Last time, I thought going for the head was a good idea. Were we wrong in assuming that?"

"No. Actually, that's exactly what you're supposed to do," Susumu said, nodding. "The trick is actually hitting it."

"Alright. It said it was based off a smith. In that case, have you run into an Irise that had a similar function?" J.J. asked. Susumu smiled faintly at him.

"Tristan was right. You really are quite the strategist. Yeah, I've fought one or two Irises that specialized in metalworking. Their bodies tended to be strong, but they were also slow. Not unlike a knight," he added, glancing at Tristan.

"Knights are not slow, Susumu," Tristan grumbled, still holding his shield between them and the horde of metallic automatons. "I would suggest, in that case, that we attack our opponent from multiple angles to deal as much damage as possible. It cannot defend in all directions, and its capabilities seem limited compared to our last fight with this foe. Our previous strategy should prove even more effective in this instance."

"Yeah, but last time we didn't have a small army of those dolls… Chips, you called them, Susumu?" J.J. asked quickly. Susumu nodded in reply. "So… should we focus on taking those out first, or the Irise? You said if we take out the Pupil, the Chips won't be able to function, right?"

"Right. Alright, here's what we can do," Susumu suggested. "If you two can clear a path for me, I can land a Rider Kick on it that should hopefully destroy it."

"From here?" J.J. asked skeptically, frowning at Susumu from behind his mask.

"Trust me. It'll work, even from here," Susumu said confidently.

"Hm. Alright. If you think you can pull it off, I'll trust you," J.J. said. He hesitated a moment, however, and gave Susumu a long look. "After this, though, I've got questions for you."

"Of course," Susumu said, though his tone was evasive. J.J. frowned, but decided not to push the issue any further for now. He stood up beside Tristan, who paused to glance at him.

"If you wish to utilize your Mage Class, I believe that should possess enough power to clear at least a few of our foes," Tristan suggested.

"That's not a bad idea, but I've got a better one. All we need is a distraction, right?" J.J. asked, grinning slightly from behind his mask. "In that case… you haven't seen my latest form yet, have you?"

Tristan gave him a curious look as J.J. put his hand on his blue and black D-formers and gave them a simultaneous spin. **"Reroll! Multiclass: Bard!"** his Driver shouted, and as a violin began to play, a blue and black die coalesced around him, before merging into a single violet crystal that began to spin rapidly. When the spinning stopped, he was wearing a purple longcoat and gripping a slender rapier in his right hand.

Tristan gazed at him quietly for a long moment before commenting softly, "I do recall that your newest form possessed powerful illusions. However, I am unsure as to how-"

J.J. grinned at Tristan from behind his mask while quietly pointing towards the horde of incoming Chips. Two copies of Tristan and two of J.J. suddenly appeared in front of the Chips, the former raising their shields while the latter dropped into identical fencing positions. The Chips hesitated for a few moments, glancing back and forth between the copies, before abruptly diving in to fight them. J.J. immediately began pulling the copies back, drawing the Chips away from each other. Tristan gasped as he watched their formation fall apart, immediately catching on.

"I see! We draw them into individual skirmishes…!" Tristan began.

"And break apart their formation, clearing the way for Susumu," J.J. finished, nodding. "And we can pick and choose which Chips we want to fight, while they're distracted by the illusions. Push comes to shove, I can even give the illusions solid form for a few moments, though I'd rather not burn that much energy."

"Clever, page," Tristan praised him. "To arms, then!"

J.J. and Tristan squared off against the two remaining Chips charging towards them, and six figures dove into the wild fray, engaging a half-dozen Chips at the same time. J.J. couldn't keep his mind split on six different fights, of course, so he instead silently directed the copies that weren't fighting to retreat and continue to bait the Chips further away from the Irise. In the meantime, he focused his personal efforts on a bronze-colored Chip in front of him, which thrust at him with one arm and then the other. J.J. parried both blows before leaning in and stabbing at the Chip's face, though the machine had enough self-preservation to lean away from the attack. J.J. thrusted two more times at the same spot, but each attack was blocked. J.J. let out a soft tsking sound of annoyance. Without a proper cutting edge on his sword, he couldn't slice through the Chip's arms, which would have made the fight much easier. His only hope of winning was to pierce its computer chip at some point, and in the meantime, he simply had to keep fencing.

Off to his side, he saw Tristan press the horse icon on his shield, and his mace disappeared as a stallion whinnied loudly. A long spear emerged from his shield, bathed in golden light, and belatedly J.J. remembered to make the copies do the same, to keep pace with Tristan. Tristan grabbed the flexible blue lance and began thrusting at the Chip as well, using its length to maintain his distance. Whether it was intentional or not, Tristan switching to a thrusting weapon like J.J.'s rapier made directing the clones much easier for him, as he could now include a command to all of them to feint thrusts at the Chips they were fighting, which helped make the illusion a bit more convincing, so long as they avoided being hit.

J.J. disengaged from the Chip he was facing by leaping backwards and glancing around at the battlefield, taking a moment to survey it. One of his clones was off to the left side of the street, still weaving away from the silver Chip it was fighting, while his other copy and one of Tristan's were off to the right, backpedaling rapidly. Tristan's other clone was drawing the Chip it was facing into a nearby alleyway, meaning only he and Tristan were left in the middle of the street, fighting their respective opponents. All they had to do was lead their Chips out of the way, or beat them, and Susumu would have a clear path to the Irise.

J.J. stopped looking around in time to see the Chip he was facing charge towards him, and he hastily brought his sword up to knock away its attack before countering with a thrust of his own. His attack was mostly reflex, however, and his blade pierced its chest, sticking in the soft metal. J.J. growled and hastily tried to yank his sword out of its soft metal body, but the Chip took advantage of his semi-helpless state to stab him three times in his chest. Two blows hit his undersuit, bruising his ribs as he let out gasps of pain, while the third was mercifully stopped by his thicker purple overcoat. J.J. grit his teeth and yanked the blade from the Chip's body, and in frustration, he punched it across the face with his left hand. While the blow was delivered with more force than any regular human could ever hope to muster, all it did was send the Chip reeling backwards for a couple of steps, without doing any real damage. It was rare for J.J. to wish that he had more raw power, as he prided himself on using his versatility and wits to win fights instead of relying on brute force, but after watching Susumu effortlessly dispatch several Chips simply by punching them, he couldn't help but feel a mild pang of envy.

With a bit of distance separating him and the Chip he was facing, J.J. brought his rapier up defensively again, anticipating the Chip's next move. The automaton likewise waited for a few beats to see what J.J. would do, before reaching in with one sharp arm. Almost reflexively, J.J. flicked his sword up, diverting the attack with as little force as possible, while awaiting the inevitable second strike. As soon as it leaned in with its second arm, J.J. swayed out of the way while thrusting forward. The point of his rapier finally struck its target, the thin tip piercing the computer chip on its face and shattering it. The Chip clattered to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, and J.J. finally let out a sigh of relief before again glancing around at the rest of the battlefield.

His copies were continuing to evade the Chips successfully, but J.J. was starting to feel a throbbing between his eyes from maintaining the illusions for so long. Still, the Chips had been completely dragged away from the main battlefield, opening most of the street, save for Tristan, who was still sparring with his opponent. J.J. was about to intervene when Tristan let out a growl of frustration and spun the D-former on his belt. **"Critical!"** his belt shouted as he jumped backwards, putting about twenty feet between him and his opponent, bracing his spear with both hands while his shield hung loosely off his left forearm. The Chip hesitated, considering its next move, but before it could, Tristan was surrounded by a steel-blue crystal, which coalesced around his Azuron spear while he pointed the tip of it at the Chip. Moments later, the tip of his spear suddenly grew several feet in a split second, impaling the Chip's processor before it had time to react. The Chip's body slowly sank to the ground, its head sliding down the harder metal like putty before slipping off the spear entirely. Tristan's spear quickly returned to its original shape, and he nodded to J.J. as he stepped out of the way for Susumu, while J.J. did the same, leaving the street completely open for the brass-covered Rider.

"All yours, Susumu!" J.J. called.

"Right! Give me a second to prepare!" Susumu called back. The Irise, meanwhile, lumbered slowly towards him, its hammer raised threateningly. J.J. flicked his rapier, but then he caught Tristan watching him from the other side of the street. Tristan quietly shook his head, before nodding towards Susumu, almost as if saying, "He wanted to do this himself, so let him do it." J.J. slowly relaxed his stance, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

Susumu dropped to one knee, fiddling with something near his ankle. J.J. watched him expectantly. He realized that he was eager to see another of Susumu's tricks. However, a moment turned into a few moments, all while the Irise kept approaching him. J.J.'s eager look began to fade, melting into a look of concern.

Though it was hard to tell from where he was standing, Susumu almost seemed to be hesitating. J.J. craned his neck and noticed that Susumu's front leg was shaking wildly. He realized that Susumu's leg was the same weak one that he required a cane for. Was it his old injury acting up at the wrong time… or was it something else?

"Susumu!" J.J. called out. The clockwork Rider looked up, realizing suddenly that the Irise was coming closer. He muttered something under his breath, then picked himself up and instead dropped his hand down to one of his belt panels. Opening it up, he pulled flat gear with round spokes from inside it and inserted it into his right bracer.

" **Shifting gears! Smash 'em! Wrecker!"** Susumu's Driver shouted mechanically. Susumu's bracer seemed to reconfigure itself with screws and parts automatically sliding into place, and moments later, a large iron ball attached to a chain hung from his arm. Before the Irise could come any closer, he whipped the ball and chain around, smashing it into the Irise's large body.

The wrecking ball knocked the Irise back a few steps, and Susumu used this opening to swing it over his head again, this time aiming for the Irise's head. Instinctively, the Irise raised its claw arm and caught the chain of the ball, but the momentum caused the wrecking ball to wrap around its arm. Susumu grunted and yanked the chain, pulling the Irise forward a few steps, before holding the chain with both hands. "Change of plans! Page! Aegis! I've got it tied up! Aim for the head!" Susumu shouted.

J.J. and Tristan exchanged silent looks from across the street, and J.J. could tell from Tristan's body language that he was wondering the same thing – why had Susumu hesitated when he'd had a clear shot at the Irise like he'd wanted? The exchange of looks lasted only a split second, though, as both men sprang forward with their weapons drawn to carry out Susumu's plan. Before J.J. could get close, however, a blur darted out of the corner of his eye, and he brought his rapier down in time to catch the wooden sword of the Fool, who chuckled at his instinctive reaction.

"Oooh, it has gotten faster! When it first started, it wouldn't have even seen us coming!" the Fool praised him mockingly.

"What gives?" J.J. asked, pushing his rapier against the Fool's wooden sword. The clown braced his sword against his left forearm, keeping J.J. in place. "Usually you just watch when we fight, and when things get hairy, you lead the Diemon away. It's not like you to get involved like this."

"Ah, yes, we do prefer to be part of the audience, but there comes a time in some plays when the audience may be called on to participate," the Fool replied with a weary sigh. "Unfortunately, this is one of those times when we cannot stand idly by. Our master has decreed that this magnificent creation must remain unharmed."

"Why?" J.J. asked simply, disengaging his blade and stepping back, before dropping into a fencing stance. The Fool snickered at his posture and responded by standing loosely in front of him, idly running his fingers up the length of his wooden blade.

"Sadly, we are not at liberty to say," the Fool shrugged. "But we will warn it that it should refrain from attacking further. We are sure it remembers how poorly its last attempt went," the harlequin added, its usually jovial voice dropping into an uncharacteristically menacing tone.

J.J. hesitated, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He glanced past the Irise and shouted at Tristan, "I'm a little held up over here! Can you-?!"

"Occupied as well!" Tristan shouted, over the sudden ringing of steel, and as the blue knight took a couple steps back, allowing J.J. to see him from behind the Irise, he saw that Agnar was hammering his shield with powerful overhead attacks from his claymore.

J.J. swore softly under his breath while the Fool giggled, regarding him idly as it tossed its wooden sword from hand to hand. "So, will it retreat?" the clown taunted him.

J.J. hesitated a moment longer, then suddenly dropped his hand to his belt and gave his blue and black D-formers a quick spin. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and the Fool glanced around as a trio of illusions coalesced around it, while violet die enveloped them and left them outlined with glowing purple light. Before they could thrust their rapiers forward, the Fool jumped upward out of the circle of solid shadows, landing lightly on the roof of the hardware store above them, before tutting and shaking its head in disappointment.

"And here we thought it was the reasonable one," the Fool said, before leaping down towards him. J.J. dropped his hand to his belt, lifting his diary out of it, and he was briefly surrounded by an amber D-former. The Fool's flight towards him was interrupted as it collided with the spinning amber die, and it was knocked to the asphalt before rolling away and picking itself up, its stance indicating that it was surprised by J.J.'s sudden change. J.J. gripped his shortsword tightly in a fencing stance, beckoning the Fool forward. The Fool stared at him in disbelief, then began cackling as it dropped into a mocking fencing stance of its own.

"Susumu! We're tied up here! You're on your own!" J.J. shouted, darting in to thrust at the Fool. The clown lazily knocked his blade to the side, responding with a jab of its own that J.J. twisted out of the way of and countered with another slash that the Fool blocked with a twist of its wrist. The clown made a noise of surprised delight as it pushed J.J.'s blade off its own.

"Oooh, its dancing _has_ improved! This'll be a bit more fun than we anticipated!" the Fool crowed, before slashing downward at him. J.J. brought his blade up to parry the attack, but at the last moment, the Fool turned its wrist, slashing J.J.'s shoulder with a light blow. J.J. sucked in his breath from between clenched teeth as the attack left a smarting welt on his shoulder, even through the armor. However, the power behind the attack had also been mitigated somewhat because of the Fool's abrupt change in direction. It felt more like the clown had just tried to score a point than seriously hurt him.

Behind the Irise, Agnar and Tristan continued to spar, with the former pushing the latter backwards. Agnar was deflecting every blow, but the red knight's attack was so furious that he couldn't launch a counterattack. "Explain yourself!" Tristan roared over the din of their clashing weapons. "We aided you in ridding your lands of this monstrosity! Why did you revive it?!"

"Our lord's orders were clear," Agnar shouted back, swiping at Tristan's legs, though the blue knight jumped over the attack and brought his mace down towards Agnar's skull. The draconic knight leaned backwards, the attack missing him entirely. "And I do not disobey our lord. I was told to bring this machine to him once I had informed him of its capabilities."

"To what end?! I demand answers of you, sir!" Tristan shouted.

Agnar ignored him, slamming his greatsword into Tristan's shield again and driving him back another step. J.J. growled as he ducked under an insultingly telegraphed attack from the Fool, looking over his shoulder at Susumu, who was still struggling to hold the Irise in place for one of them to finish it off. "Susumu, we're a bit tied up! If you're going to do something about this, do it now!" J.J. shouted, before driving his sword forward at the Fool's chest. The clown snorted at the feeble attack and batted it aside.

"I… yeah. Right!" Susumu stuttered, grunting as he tried to drag the massive machine closer. The Irise was dragged forward a single step before the claw on its left hand clamped down on the chain. It, in turn, dragged Susumu closer, the Rider's feet sparking as they were dragged along the asphalt. Susumu strained against the machine's strength, but in moments he had been dragged within range of its hammer. The heavy tool slammed down on Susumu, who managed to react just in time by throwing his bracers up to block the attack. He was staggered and shaking, but managed to remain on his feet. The Irise slammed down at his guard again, driving him to one knee, while Susumu cried out in pain and his right leg began shuddering again.

The machine paused, examining the chain wrapped around its arm while it had the chance, and in a brief moment where J.J. had managed to swipe at the Fool and drive it back, he noticed the D-former in the center of its body start glowing red. To his amazement, the chain in its claw began glowing white, then yellow. As the glowing faded, J.J.'s jaw dropped as he saw that the chain of Susumu's wrecking ball had turned gold.

The Irise brought its hammer up and slammed it down onto the golden chain. The metal links fell apart with little resistance, clattering heavily on the ground, and it shook its claw free before releasing the wrecking ball, which slammed into the ground in front of Susumu, who stared at the broken tool in disbelief. Both Agnar and the Fool glanced at the machine, before Agnar knocked Tristan back with a heavy two-handed swipe while the Fool kicked J.J. in the chest, sending him sprawling. The Black Seraph's servants then approached the machine, appraising the few links of the golden chain that it held.

"It would seem that your foray into this smithy produced results," Agnar commented. "Is that metal fully transmuted?"

"ANALYSIS INDICATES THAT MOLECULAR RECONFIGURATION WAS SUCCESSFUL," the Irise confirmed, turning one of the links over in its claw. "PHASE TWO OF RECONSTRUCTION MAY PROCEED."

"Ah, leave that to us!" the Fool cackled. "Our draconic friend here knows the ruins quite well! I'm certain he can locate the Forge without much difficulty."

"This task would be completed more swiftly were you to aid me in my search," Agnar growled at the Fool.

"But the master's dog is so much better at sniffing out what the master wishes than we are!" the Fool taunted him, giggling. "And it so enjoys the treats our master feeds it when it does a good job!"

While the two were arguing, J.J. saw Susumu's hand drop to his belt, and he pulled something small out of one of his compartments. Surreptitiously, he tossed it at the Irise, and J.J. watched the little speck fly through the air, landing on the Irise's ankle and attaching itself to the metal chassis. Susumu then glanced at J.J. and shook his head slightly. J.J. quickly looked away.

"Enough of this bickering. Let us depart for now and inform our lord of our progress," Agnar announced shortly. He turned to glare at the three Riders on the ground. "Do not interfere in this. I swear on my honor that no harm will come to you if you allow us to complete our quest unimpeded."

"Says the guy whose definition of 'won't harm' means 'I won't kill anyone who has Almencian blood,'" J.J. shot back.

Agnar ignored him as he and the Fool leaped into the air, taking the Irise with them. Tristan began to push himself up to follow them, but Susumu held his hand up.

"Don't worry about them. We'll know where they're going," Susumu assured him.

"How can you be certain? If we lose track of them now…!" Tristan protested.

"You bugged the Irise, didn't you?" J.J. asked. Susumu glanced at him, letting out a short laugh.

"Yeah. I figured you'd caught that. That's why I didn't want you looking at me; I was worried they'd get suspicious," Susumu said. "I say we let them go for now, let them lead us to whatever they're looking for."

"Right. We could use a break anyways," J.J. agreed. He pulled his D-former out of his diary, his suit disappearing in a flash of amber light, while Tristan reluctantly did the same. Susumu, meanwhile, twisted the knob on the top of his belt, and his suit began folding in on itself, disappearing into the belt once more in a matter of moments.

"Let's head back to my place," Susumu suggested, wincing as he pulled a small brass ball from his pocket. He pressed a button on top of it, and an extendable cane shot forth, allowing him to lean on it as he began limping his way back towards his bike. Before he could, however, J.J. stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the mechanic.

"First thing's first, before we do anything else," J.J. said firmly. "You're a Kamen Rider? And you didn't tell us?"

Susumu smiled sadly at him, sighing as he leaned on his cane. "Yeah. Why did you think I knew so much about them? It's not just that I'm a fan of Kamen Riders – I know them so well because I used to be one."

"Used to be?" Tristan asked, standing beside J.J. with his arms folded.

"Wait, can you retire from being a Kamen Rider?" J.J. asked skeptically. "I mean, if you already had a suit of your own, why haven't you been helping us?"

"There's a few reasons for that," Susumu explained. "First, my Gadget Driver has been broken for quite a while. I've managed to get it working, but only barely. It's in an unstable state right now, and I'm not sure how many times I can transform before it breaks down again. This is only a temporary fix.

"Second, there's the fact that you two already had the situation in this city well in hand," he continued, glancing between the two men with a slight smile. "Tristan, you're more of an expert on Almencian history than I am, and you've done an excellent job training J.J. For your own part, J.J., you've learned astoundingly quickly, and you've become a formidable Kamen Rider in your own right. Your powers are perfectly suited for fighting the Black Seraph, and while I admit that my own might have been able to lend you some help if they were working, I didn't see a need to step in when you two were already doing an excellent job. That said, I'm an expert about Pupils and what they can do, so I figured you two could use my help for this one."

"I sense a third reason coming on," J.J. commented drily.

Susumu grinned briefly at J.J. "The third reason… is this," he said, patting his weak leg with one hand. "If you noticed, I didn't move the entire fight. Now, it's not like I'm completely useless in a fight. I know boxing, as you saw, and I have ways of pulling an enemy to me. But… I can't move the way I used to, and I feel like most of the time I would just slow you down. Again, since I know about what Irises are capable of, I can compensate in this case, but Diemons are outside of my comfort zone. If I'd gone up against a quick one like that vampire, or one of your opponents that could cast long-range magic, I would have been in trouble. You handled those situations far better than I would have."

J.J. glared at him, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm not buying it," J.J. shot back. "For one thing, you claim you know about these Irises, but you don't want to get involved with Diemons? Then why don't you sit this one out? From what I saw, that Irise had a D-former. Technically that makes it a Diemon. Worse, we just saw it magically transmute metal. Isn't magic out of your comfort zone?" he mocked Susumu.

Susumu's smile faltered slightly. "Well… at least with the machinery side of it, I feel like I can help you now…."

"Which brings me to my other problem!" J.J. snapped. "You could have been helping us this entire time! If you had bugs, for example, why didn't you give me a handful so that I could toss them at people who became Diemons?"

"You have a diary for that," Susumu pointed out.

"You get my point!" J.J. growled. "Are you seriously telling us you couldn't have done more to help us?"

Susumu's smile faded, and he began limping past J.J. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "If that's how you feel, then from now on, I'll try to give you more of a hand. For right now, though, I'd rather we focus on this problem. I'm going on ahead. I'll meet you back at the shop."

"You-!" J.J. started to shout, but Tristan reached out and gripped his shoulder firmly, stopping him mid-sentence. The knight shook his head slowly.

"I would advise you not to press the issue for now, page," Tristan said softly as Susumu limped towards his bike.

"He's not really addressing the issue, though," J.J. replied, still fuming.

"Nor shall he, at least not yet," Tristan said, nodding at Susumu's back. "Observe the way that he is walking. His shoulders are slumped, as though he is carrying a weight greater than he wishes for us to see. I have seen it several times in world-weary warriors. I suspect that he has seen his fair share of warfare, and that it has left its own scars upon him."

"I don't see how-!" J.J. started to protest.

"Do you recall how despondent you were when Lady Kelsie perished?" Tristan asked quietly. That brought J.J. up short, and he looked away uncomfortably. "I imagine from the way that he is walking that our skirmish today unturned some memories that Susumu had buried and tried to forget. I would not be surprised if he has many memories that have affected him as deeply as some of your losses, page. Give him time. He will tell us more when he is ready."

"…That's fair," J.J. said finally, scratching the back of his neck ruefully. "And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, we follow at his pace. As he said, he is experienced with the Irises. Susumu is not our enemy, so we should not treat him as such. All we can do is trust that he will aid us in his own way. And as he does, we shall remain wary of our own foes," Tristan said matter-of-factly.

"To his shop, then," J.J. said.

"To his shop," Tristan agreed, pausing for a moment to look after Susumu, before adding in a low voice for only J.J. to hear, "And while I do not believe he is, let us pray that he is not truly as broken as he fears."


	33. Special Session: Alchemachina, Pt 2

**Special Session: Kamen Rider Page – Alchemachina**

 **Part 2**

The sun was getting low on the horizon, bathing the area in a deep orange light, as the trio of Riders sat around an old laptop that Susumu had set up. A window was open on the laptop with the video feed of the bug Susumu had planted showing the Irise's leg tromping through a place that J.J. didn't recognize. All he could see were wooden floors and plush, ornate rugs. While that did clue them into the fact that the Irise was in the residence of someone wealthy, it wasn't as though they could figure out where it was from a few decorations.

"I'm surprised that you didn't attach a GPS tracker to the bug," J.J. commented around a mouthful of the instant ramen noodles that Susumu had cooked for them while they sat around the computer. Susumu glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his chopsticks pausing as ramen hung out of his own mouth. He frowned and slurped the noodles past his lips before speaking.

"I made those bugs undetectable to an Irise's scanning software, but to do that, I had to limit the signals that they output. A GPS tracker is one of those the Irises specifically scan for. Trust me, I've tried including a tracer in the past, but it got destroyed almost immediately once the Pupil realized it was being tracked. Honestly, even the fact that we have video feed is an improvement over my original design. It used to be audio only," Susumu explained.

"I for one believe you have worked a miracle," Tristan piped up. He had set aside his own cup of ramen, claiming that he wasn't hungry, though J.J. suspected that it was too salty for his palate. Even after months of living in the modern era, he still hated pre-packaged food. J.J. was willing to bet he was going to run to the supermarket for some fresh produce once they were done. "Your technology is allowing us to perform espionage on a level that even Lord Quintus could not master. He attempted several times to create a method of scrying, yet he was always unsuccessful. It amazes me that, in many ways, your technology has completely outstripped Lord Quintus' proudest alchemical achievements."

"See, now you're making me blush," Susumu grinned, while J.J. rolled his eyes.

"Suck-up," he muttered playfully, loud enough for the pair to hear. When they both glared at him, he grinned at them cheekily. Susumu shushed them both a moment later as the Irise came to a halt, and the trio crowded around the screen while Susumu turned the volume up so they could hear.

"My lord," Agnar said, a red-tinted knee appearing in the corner of the screen, indicating that the draconic knight was bowing before someone. From around the corner of a wooden doorway appeared the Black Seraph, his dark robes billowing as he held his pale hands out, his face still hidden behind his golden mask. J.J. noticed that Tristan's knuckles were turning white beside him, gripping his left arm tightly as he ground his teeth.

"You have returned. I trust that your experiment has proven successful, then?" the Black Seraph asked in a glassy smooth voice.

"TEST RUN COMPLETE. INTEGRATION OF OBJECT: SERAPH JEWEL HAS ALLOWED FOR SUCCESSFUL IMPLEMENTATION OF MOLECULAR RECONFIGURATION PROCESS. RECONSTRUCTION OF OBJECT: CROWN OF ALMENCIA CAN PROCEED TO PHASE TWO," the Irise replied. The Black Seraph chuckled, folding its hands in front of itself.

"Excellent. Now, my servants will seek the Forge of Farri. You shall accompany them and allow them to protect you. While I do not consider the knights that have been opposing me to be a significant threat, if they interfere with this stage of our plans, I will be most displeased. I am patient, but I will not encourage failure when our success is so close at hand," the Black Seraph replied. "And as I promised, once you have completed your appointed task, that jewel you possess will transmute your form, giving you true life at last."

"DIRECTIVE ACKNOWLEDGED," the Irise announced. The Black Seraph nodded and glanced to its left and right, towards its two servants.

"Sir Agnar, have you had any success in locating the Forge? I am confident that it is something that my sister would have brought with her when she was constructing this city," the Black Seraph asked patiently.

"It remains hidden, I am afraid, my lord," Agnar replied. "However, I believe that your mechanical servant also mentioned that it can scan for alchemical locations using your jewel. If so, such an ability would expedite my search."

"Excellent. Continue to scour the ruins, then," the Black Seraph said. "I would ask that you move quietly, lest we draw the attention of our opposition. I, likewise, will not create any new servants for the time being, though it pains me to deny the citizens of my city the fulfillment of their desired roles. However, they can be patient, as I have been for over a thousand years." He turned to face the Fool and added, "Ensure that the Shards do not pose a threat to the surface either. While I tolerate their desire for the energy my jewels provide, I do not wish to provoke an unnecessary response from our foes. In fact, keeping them underground will also serve as an extra security measure in case our plans are revealed."

"Ah, as the master wishes," the Fool sighed. "Though ensuring their total obedience for such a long time is going to be… difficult."

"I trust you are up to the task, my faithful servant. The Kamen Riders will no doubt enjoy the brief respite," the Black Seraph chuckled. "And I do hope they enjoy it. Their opposition to me is so… tiresome. I do wish they would understand that what I do, I do for the happiness of the people."

"They will understand your intentions in time, my liege," Agnar replied in a soothing tone. "Nevertheless, we shall carry out your orders in the meantime. Yes?" he added, his image shifting towards the Fool, as if emphasizing the glare that he was throwing the clown from behind his mask.

"Of course! We don't disobey the master," the Fool giggled. "What he says is what we do. Control the Shards? The Shards will be controlled."

The Irise abruptly began moving, spinning around so quickly that the bug suddenly detached from its leg, landing on one of the plush rugs, its camera pointed at the ceiling. Seconds later, Agnar's large, armored foot came down on the bug, accidentally stomping on it, and the video feed abruptly cut to static. Susumu swore under his breath and shut down the program he was using to record the footage.

"And here I was hoping we could figure out where they went," J.J. sighed, setting down his ramen cup, which had turned cold while they had been watching the feed.

"Alas, our clues were too few," Tristan agreed. "Nevertheless, at least we know the object of their quest."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," J.J. admitted, frowning at Tristan. "The Forge of Farri… isn't Farri your surname?"

"Indeed. The Forge of which our foes were speaking of was the very forge that my father used to smelt the alchemical metals he and Lord Quintus created," Tristan explained, settling back in his chair with his fingers laced. "I know little of the details of its construction, but when my father operated it, he utilized unique alchemical components that allowed him to forge metals such as Azuron. However, I also believe that only he and Lord Quintus were able to operate it effectively. For any other smith, it was no more useful than a standard forge, albeit one of exceedingly high quality."

"And the Black Seraph intends to use it to re-forge the Crown of Almencia," J.J. said, tapping his fingers on his leg. "The question is, what does that have to do with the Irise? He seemed adamant about ensuring it wasn't destroyed."

"Probably because the Irise might be the only thing that could replicate what Tristan's father could do," Susumu said softly. "That's what it was designed for, after all."

J.J. and Tristan both turned to look at him, with J.J. frowning. "Susumu… what exactly is an Irise?" he asked. "It can't just be another robot. It's too advanced for that."

"It's not just an average robot, no," Susumu confirmed, looking away. "An Irise is the completed form of a Pupil which has designated a task for itself and designed a body to help it fulfill that task. See… Pupils were created as a replacement for menial laborers. They were programmed to learn a task, and then design a body to help them complete that task. Mining, electrical repairs, plumbing… anything that a human worker could do, a Pupil was designed to replicate it."

"Why, though?" J.J. asked.

Susumu laughed bitterly. "Honestly, it started out almost as a bet. Let me start from the beginning. I grew up in a secluded research facility in Japan. Some of the most brilliant minds in the world gathered there to address scientific problems – chemistry, biology, engineering, just about any scientific field. My father was one of the engineers working as a researcher on these projects, but my mother was a common miner, one of the laborers the investment group hired to provide raw materials for the research projects. I wasn't the only kid who was born and raised in that environment, but there was a fair bit of class warfare, and most kids were either born to researchers or laborers. I was the rare one that was born to both classes, and so it gave me a scientist's education, but a laborer's perspective. It put me in a unique position.

"To make a very long story short, I was a young engineer when we started running into labor problems. Namely, how to pay the laborers. We couldn't make up the monetary shortfall we were experiencing with our dwindling grants, so we had to come up with a solution to double our labor output for half the cost, or else the project would be shut down. One of the most promising ideas came from a colleague of mine, who created the Pupils, autonomous workers that could observe an expert in a field and learn to perform tasks at the same level. It was hoped that by not having to feed, clothe, or shelter the robots, they could help make up the deficit. Even better, the bodies they constructed could be made from unusable scrap material, so they would also help reduce waste and recycle materials. However, in his arrogance, their creator even went so far as to say that the laborers could all be laid off, and robotic workers could completely replace the human workforce.

"While I agree that it was a logical, practical solution, I didn't want to see my mother or my friends unemployed and tossed out on the streets, so I set about devising an alternate solution. What I came up with was a prototype that I labeled the Gizmo system. The system revolved around a collapsible belt of power armor that boosted a person's strength and speed exponentially, and could be fitted with various attachments that would allow the average person to complete their work far more efficiently. Even better, unlike the Pupils, which could only perform one task, this suit was designed to allow one person to perform multiple jobs and pinch-hit as needed, especially after I began developing tool attachments. In doing so, I hoped that we wouldn't have to lay off our workers, since with the belt, one person would be able to do the work of twenty."

"Naturally, there were problems," J.J. commented, raising an eyebrow.

"As there always are. On my end, I couldn't mass-produce the Gizmo system, so I was left with my own prototype to tweak," Susumu grinned sheepishly. "It wasn't seen as a viable solution in the short-term, so they suggested that I continue working on it, and in the meantime they would go ahead with the first test models of the Pupils. However, the Pupils had their own problems. Namely, the fact that they were designed… too well."

"Elaborate?" Tristan asked.

"The Pupils did indeed try to perform their assigned tasks to the best of their ability, but they did so while ignoring safety and precautions. People started getting hurt because overzealous Pupils disregarded the lives of the human workers, focusing solely on completing their jobs," Susumu sighed. "Worse, the Chips that were supposed to help the central Pupil accomplish their tasks proved even more unpredictable. They rarely followed even the Pupil's orders, instead seeing any person in the vicinity as a hindrance to be removed. However… my colleague took my creation of the Gizmo system as an insult and a personal challenge, and he released all the prototype Pupils into the city to prove that they were the superior design. What followed was an unmitigated disaster."

"And you had to fight them, I assume?" J.J. asked, folding his arms.

"I was the only one that could," Susumu said. "I never wanted the Gizmo project to be used for fighting, but it was the only tool we had that was effective against the Irises. In time, the people in the facility gave me the title of Kamen Rider to go along with it, but… it's not something I ever wanted. I only ever wanted to make people's lives easier," Susumu said, a sad smile touching his lips.

"Yeah… it's amazing how quick we humans are to turn a tool into a weapon," J.J. said softly, before shaking his head. "That's really a shame, but the fact that you're here suggests to me that the Irise problem was taken care of, right? I remember that you seemed confused that there was an Irise still operating."

"I thought that I'd destroyed the last of them, yeah," Susumu said slowly. "And it shouldn't be operating as an indep-… but, well, the Pupils were nothing if not adaptable. It's why I had to keep developing my own array of gadgets. It's possible that they invented some sort of emergency backup system that would allow them to continue operating even after I destroyed the last of them," Susumu shrugged. "You said this one was found by a treasure hunter?"

"Yeah, though we're not sure where he found it," J.J. admitted.

"I have an idea," Susumu said grimly. "Something I should look into later myself. But that's irrelevant right now. What I want to know is why the Black Seraph took an interest in it. At the end of the day, it's still a machine. It can't work magic if that's what the Seraph is hoping for."

"Lord Quintus was not a magician, but an alchemist, Susumu," Tristan commented, though his tone wasn't unkind. "What he performed was what you would term a science, though one that is no longer properly understood."

"Hm… if that's the case, then what if the Black Seraph's D-former allows the Irise to perform alchemy?" J.J. suggested. "If it's transmuting metals, that'd explain how it turned your wrecking ball's chain to gold."

"But it's just a machine, and D-formers run off of desire. How can a machine have desires?" Susumu asked.

"It's not just about having desires, but wanting to fulfill a certain role," J.J. pointed out. "Every Diemon I've faced was someone who wasn't necessarily greedy, but dissatisfied about what they couldn't do in their lives. What the Seraph gave them was something to help them fulfill that goal. It might be the same thing with the Irise. Maybe it's just sentient enough to be able to profess a desire to fill a role, even if it's a task appointed by a programmer, and the Black Seraph was able to use that as a loophole to give it a D-former of its own. From there, it'd just be a matter of mastering the powers of its D-former so that it could carry out the task the Black Seraph set for it."

"Namely, reconstructing the Crown of Almencia," Susumu said thoughtfully. "I suppose that's possible. But if it's got alchemical powers, why doesn't it just reforge the crown now? Why look for the forge?"

"As I stated before, my father's forge was what allowed Lord Quintus to create metals such as Azuron. It would explain why they are no longer available, if the forge was the only thing that could properly produce them," Tristan suggested. "If the Crown of Almencia is made of a similar alchemical metal, then perhaps the Irise's new alchemical powers are required in conjunction with my father's forge, hence our foe's search for it."

"Well, then that makes this easy, doesn't it?" J.J. said cheerfully. "We've just gotta find the forge before they do and destroy it." A moment later, however, he glanced over at Tristan, frowning faintly as he realized something. "Although… would you like for us to try and save it, if possible?"

"Sadly, I do not believe that is viable," Tristan sighed. "The forge is massive, so it would not be possible for us to simply remove it and hide it as we would a Driver or a D-former. Nor do I possess the knowledge of how to utilize it. If the Black Seraph's servants do, however, then for our safety, it is best that the forge is simply destroyed."

J.J. noticed the downcast look on Tristan's face, which was understandable. Even if it was a necessary sacrifice, it was one more part of Tristan's past that was going to be lost forever. Worse, Tristan himself might have to strike the final blow on what was essentially a piece of his father. J.J. reached out, lightly squeezing his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," J.J. said softly.

"Fret not, page. Sacrifices are necessary," Tristan said softly, before taking a deep breath and straightening up. "Shall we depart to begin our quest?"

"There's not much point right now," Susumu pointed out. "Even if the Irise can scan for alchemical objects, this town seems to be riddled with them. I doubt the members of the Seraph's entourage are going to get much of a head-start on us. Plus, it's already dark, and we're all tired. We don't even have a lead. All we'd be doing is stumbling around blindly without a clear direction."

"I actually have a thought on that," J.J. said. "Abby might know of a passage we haven't explored yet. Though… like you said, it's already late, and if you don't think we're too pressed for time, then I don't want to disturb her. I could give her a call in the morning."

"That's a good plan. We'll head out at dawn," Susumu nodded. "Why don't you two spend the night here? It'd be easier than wasting time meeting up again in the morning."

"Do you have enough space?" J.J. asked cautiously. "I don't want to impose…."

"I've got an inflatable mattress you can sleep on," Susumu said, waving him off. "It's no trouble. I'll even let you call up Gwen, so you have someone to cuddle with," he teased suddenly, his grin turning malicious as J.J.'s face began to turn red.

"I… you…!" J.J. sputtered, and even Tristan began chuckling.

"Fret not, page, for I have mastered your telephone, and I have Lady Marks' telephone number available," Tristan added, pulling out the cheap phone that Susumu had bought him. "If you shall allow me to call her…!"

"Hate. Hate you both… so much," J.J. growled, the pair still smirking at him.

"Aw, he's blushing!" Susumu crowed. "Don't worry, we'll-!"

"Go blow up the damn air mattress!" J.J. shouted, balling up a blank piece of paper on Susumu's workbench and throwing it at him as Susumu quickly disappeared around the corner, still howling with laughter.

* * *

It was late – so late that it was early – when J.J. stirred. For a moment, he wasn't sure what had disturbed his sleep, but then he realized that there was a muffled sound off to his right. He blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the low light of the room, before peering around to get his bearings. He was sleeping on the air mattress on the floor of Susumu's tiny house attached to his garage, in the same bedroom as Susumu. Tristan was sleeping in the next room on the couch, while he was at the foot of Susumu's bed, beneath him.

As the stifled groaning got louder, J.J. sat up, squinting through the darkness. Susumu's sheets were tangled around his body, and Susumu himself seemed to be curled up on them, grunting and gasping. The noises were pained, and concern crept over J.J. He pushed himself up and cautiously crept over to Susumu's bed to check on him.

The mechanic was curled up his side, clutching his leg under the blankets, as he sucked in his breath through clenched teeth. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants as pajamas, and in the gleaming moonlight J.J. could see that his torso was drenched with sweat. His eyes were shut tightly, so he didn't see J.J. standing over him with a look of worry, until he peeked one eye open and let out a gasp of mixed pain and surprise.

"J.J.!" he grunted, before hissing through his teeth again and clutching his leg.

"Are you alright? Anything I can do to help?" J.J. asked quickly.

"Nngh! Bathroom! Pain medication!" Susumu hissed.

J.J. bolted out the room and into the living room, ignoring Tristan's confused look as J.J. dashed past him and stumbled into the bathroom. He pulled open the medicine cabinet and quickly glanced over the selection of pills before grabbing the aspirin and hurrying back to Susumu with them and a glass of water in hand. Susumu quickly downed the pills and swallowed the water in one smooth movement, before balling up on the bed again and hissing in pain as he waited for the medicine to take effect. Ten minutes later, his muscles slowly began to unclench, though he was still moving gingerly.

"Thanks," Susumu managed to say as he sat up against the pillows, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face. "I usually keep those pills by my bedside, but I ran out a few days ago and forgot to grab some new ones."

"Not a problem," J.J. replied softly. "Though… do you mind if I ask what that was about?"

Susumu hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before letting out a soft sigh. "Yeah. You deserve to know about this," he replied, leaning over to flip on his bedside light. He then beckoned J.J. closer. J.J. complied as Susumu gave him a pointed look.

"This will probably shock you," Susumu warned him, before lowering the bedsheets. J.J. gasped, his eyes widening as he saw the state of Susumu's right leg.

Below the knee, Susumu's leg was a technological marvel of clockwork parts and advanced engineering. His shinbone was a prosthetic titanium rod, supported by light grey synthetic tissue meant to simulate muscles. Wires attached to computer chips crisscrossed his shin, and his foot ended in a shoe-like construction with five flexible, claw-like toes hanging off the end. Susumu smiled grimly as he noted J.J.'s awestruck expression.

"It's my finest work," he commented nonchalantly, pulling his blanket back over his leg. "Those computer chips simulate nerves, so I even managed to retain some feeling in my lower leg. Unfortunately, it's not perfect, and I have moments where I experience phantom pains. That's what you saw me going through."

"What… happened, exactly?" J.J. asked breathlessly, still in shock.

"Let me put it to you this way: Never overdo a Rider Kick," Susumu said in a dark tone. "I won't say more than that."

J.J. swallowed, unsure what to say for several long moments. "Is this… does this happen to every Kamen Rider?" he finally asked quietly.

Susumu gazed at him for a full minute, before sighing and looking away. "Not every Rider's story ends happily, J.J.," he said finally. "Even if we're meant to be heroes, that doesn't mean we don't suffer. Most of us have lost something – loved ones, our happiness, even our lives. A few of us have even suffered fates worse than death."

"I see," J.J. said slowly, feeling a heavy weight starting to settle around him. "I mean… I knew it wasn't easy. I've already cost someone their life…."

"I know. And I know how hard that was on you. It was a harsh lesson, and one that I'm glad you learned from. That's part of what being a Kamen Rider is, though," Susumu said. "We suffer so that others don't have to."

"And the fight never ends, does it?" J.J. asked bleakly.

"Oftentimes, no," Susumu admitted. "While we might not have to fight as often during more peaceful times, no Kamen Rider truly retires. Others might step up and take up the fight, but we're always vigilant in case the world needs us. It's why I'm helping you now."

"But… you've already given so much," J.J. said, looking up at him with a frown. "Particularly your leg. Tristan and I should be able to handle it. I mean, we have so far…."

"Like I said, I know about the Irises. This is as much my fight as it's yours," Susumu said firmly. "The Irise represents some unfinished business for me. So long as even one of them is still active, I feel that I need to destroy it."

"This sounds like it goes beyond just keeping people safe," J.J. said, tilting his head.

"Those machines took everything from me. The least I can do is personally ensure that they never cause trouble for anyone again," Susumu spat.

J.J. remained silent for a few moments, before nodding once. "Alright. I trust you can look after yourself."

"Good. Now get some sleep. We need to be up in a couple hours," Susumu said, rolling over and yanking the covers over himself, before exhaling in a deep sigh as he tried to get comfortable.

J.J. settled back down onto the mattress, but kept staring at the edge of Susumu's bed, silently pondering. If the fate of most Kamen Riders was to sacrifice of themselves, what did his own future hold? He'd already lost Kelsie. What more would he have to give up? And would he be like Susumu when this fight was over? Even assuming he and Tristan could defeat the Black Seraph, would he have to keep looking out for the next Diemon? Would he have to suffer the same fate as Tristan, to allow himself to be locked away for another thousand years for the inevitable rematch with the Black Seraph, were he to be revived again? Or… would he even be able to stop the Black Seraph at all? And would his life from now on be nothing but combat and suffering?

J.J. didn't sleep much for the rest of the night.

* * *

"What possessed you idiots to wake me up at six in the morning to ask me if I've been in the sewers lately?" Abby asked acidly, standing on her front porch in her nightshirt with bedhead, glaring at the trio of men in front of her while she slowly sipped the cup of coffee they had brought her. The three men shifted uncomfortably as she pinned them each with a withering glower, none of them able to meet her gaze.

"To… to be fair, this is an emergency. And we brought you your favorite coffee," J.J. said quickly. "You did like caramel, right?"

"I do. Which is the only reason why you three are still alive. If you came without coffee, I would have murdered you all, regardless of your superpowers," she snarled. She then sighed and motioned for them to follow her into the house. The three men meekly followed her.

The interior of Abby's house was simple, but comfortable. Her living room was fairly standard – white walls, wooden floors, a leather couch and comfortable rug in front of a TV, basically what one might expect from an average house. J.J. suspected, though, that Abby's own room was decorated far differently from the comparatively typical surroundings. Abby kept sipping the coffee like medicine as she disappeared into her bedroom, reappearing seconds later with her phone, which she began swiping through as the trio waited quietly.

"Alright, here," she said finally, setting the phone on the coffee table as she resumed sipping her drink. "This is the layout of the ruins that I've been keeping track of, like you asked. These three entrances, you know about already," she said, pointing to three spots highlighted in red, at the start of what looked like a roadmap. "You also found the one that leads to the catacombs under the Marks mansion. I know of two more entrances, but none of them ever led deep enough into the ruins for me to discover a forge like the one Tristan was describing."

"Mm… so you don't know where it is?" Susumu asked.

"Specifically, no. However, I can tell you where it _isn't_ ," Abby pointed out, tracing the paths that they had already followed. "We already know the arena leads to that mansion you guys found, and that the park entrance leads to the coffins. The catacombs also seem to be a dead end. And like I said, the other two entrances that I found didn't lead deep enough into the tunnels to discover a forge. That said… there is a branching path that I hadn't taken," Abby added, pointing to a fork in the road leading to what appeared to be a dead end.

"Where does this lead?" Tristan asked. "The path apparently stops here."

"That's because I couldn't explore it. It's a cracked wall that was too sturdy for my friends and I to want to mess with, since we'd need power tools to get past it," Abby explained. "But I felt air coming from there, which makes me think that it leads to another tunnel you could try. Or it might be supporting the entire underground and you could collapse it all around you," she added thoughtfully. "Maybe your suits could survive that, though. I dunno," she shrugged, seemingly nonchalant about it.

"Yeah… let's not bring the entire sewer system down around our ears," J.J. said blandly, folding his arms over his chest. "Where's the entrance, exactly?"

"Over by the cemetery," Abby said, smirking as J.J. shot her a look. Of course she would have explored every inch of the cemetery, he thought sardonically. "It's under a sewer grate that's big enough for you to climb down. From there, follow the tunnel about a quarter mile and you'll find the cracked bit of wall. That's all I can tell you." She drained the rest of the coffee, before tossing it into the garbage can in her kitchen. "Now if that's all, I'd like to go back to bed. It's my weekend, after all."

"You just downed an entire cup of coffee," J.J. pointed out, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

"I know. Now I'm going back to bed," Abby said, flicking her fingers at them as a farewell. "You said you had to hurry, so close the door behind you."

Susumu and J.J. traded amused smirks as the girl disappeared, while Tristan inclined his head and immediately did as asked, walking to the door and pulling it open. The three climbed onto their bikes and turned them on, before turning them toward the cemetery, Tristan following J.J. and Susumu as they led the way.

"If the entrance is that obvious, how has Agnar not found it yet?" J.J. shouted over the roar of the engines as they stopped at a traffic light five minutes into the drive.

"He might have only been searching the ruins themselves," Tristan suggested. "He seems to prefer the ruins of Almencia, shunning the surface world whenever he can. I feel it only reminds him of what he's lost. I can relate," he added, looking down.

"Or maybe Abby is just wrong," Susumu added with a shrug. "We won't know until we get there, after all." The light then turned green and the three resumed the drive.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the cemetery and parked their bikes. J.J. noted that the graveyard hadn't opened for the day, but they didn't have time to waste. The three simply climbed the fence barring entrance and slipped inside, walking through the rows of gravestones as they made their way to the grate leading into the sewers.

As they passed the headstones, J.J. paused for a moment, holding his hand up and turning to hurry over to something. Tristan and Susumu traded looks, then followed him as he jogged over to one of the graves. His companions stopped short, however, when they saw that he was approaching a lonely gravestone with Kelsie's name on it.

J.J. quietly walked up to the stone and knelt in front of it, smiling bleakly at it as he brushed a couple leaves off of her grave. "Hey, kid," he said softly. "Sorry I haven't been around much, but things have been a bit hectic. You'd probably have loved seeing it happen. Would've been a handful, too, if I'd had to keep yanking your leash to keep you out of danger," he added with a bitter chuckle.

Tristan stood behind him quietly while Susumu put his hand on J.J.'s shoulder. "Do you need a minute?" he asked softly.

"No… I just wanted to say hi," J.J. replied quietly, slowly pushing himself up and dusting himself off. "What you mentioned last night reminded me not to forget what I've lost in my own fight," he added, smiling bleakly over his shoulder. "And I figured I should pay my respects to the girl who first taught me to take this war seriously. But we don't have time for more than a quick greeting. Let's go."

Susumu gazed at him quietly, before turning wordlessly and heading towards the sewer grate. He pulled a wrench from his toolbelt and grunted as he began to work to loosen the nuts holding the grate in place. A few minutes later, the grate had been pried open, and the three slowly climbed down into the damp, dark underground.

The trio stepped off the cold ladder onto a cobblestone pathway that led under the city. Susumu pulled out a flashlight and clicked it on, leading the way northeast towards where Abby had indicated on the map, while J.J. and Tristan fell into step behind him.

"You know, I never thought I'd spend this much of my life wandering through sewers," J.J. commented grumpily, folding his arms over his chest to protect himself somewhat against the cool, stench-filled air. "Whoever came up with them as a gaming location has no idea what they're really like. I'm never forcing my gaming group to walk through them again, I swear."

"I am surprised that they bear so much resemblance to the sewers my own people built," Tristan chimed in as he glanced around the stonework. "They have advancements, of course, but the basic structure remains the same."

"Well, you got them from the Romans, so that shouldn't be surprising," J.J. pointed out. "And there's not much need to fix what isn't broken. Except for lead pipes. Those needed to be fixed."

"I almost find it nostalgic," Susumu commented, his voice echoing off the cobblestones. "I spent a lot of time in tunnels like these myself."

"You know, most people don't wax nostalgic about having to crawl through sewer pipes," J.J. retorted with a snort, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but my mother was a miner, so I grew up in tunnels not too different from these. There's something almost… comforting about them," Susumu said wistfully.

"Hm. We'll have to get you in on the game one of these days," J.J. said thoughtfully, eyeing him. "You could play a dwarf or a gnome. The group could use another fighter."

"Is that a crack at my size?" Susumu asked suspiciously, frowning at him.

"What? No, they're ingenious races that-!" J.J. began, before he saw Susumu grinning at him, showing that he'd been teasing. J.J. reluctantly grinned back as they slowly rounded a corner, finally reaching the broken section of wall.

"The question is, as Abby said, how we're supposed to get through this without bringing the sewers down around our ears," J.J. said, growing serious again as he frowned at the cracks. "I suppose that Warrior Class might be enough…."

"If you'd allow me?" Susumu suggested, handing J.J. the flashlight. "I told you before, the Gizmo project was originally designed to let me handle manual labor. This is exactly the sort of thing I built it for. Just keep the light steady, please?"

Susumu reached into his windbreaker and pulled out the brass-faced circle that served as the central gear for his belt. He gave it three spins until the spokes of the gear locked into place, at which point he tossed it from his left hand to his right and shouted, "Henshin!" His voice echoed off the hollow stones as he pushed the gear between the spokes of his belt and tapped the button on top of his belt, where it began rotating while simultaneously spinning the other two gears of his Driver.

 **"Gear up!"** his Driver shouted, and the ablative armor began to assemble itself from his belt, loudly clanking and accompanied by the sounds of bells, whistles, and springs as it engulfed his body. Moments later, he was completely covered in his golden armor, holding his hands up in front of his face to shield his eyes.

"J.J.! Point the light at the wall, not my face!" Susumu protested.

J.J. grimaced sheepishly and quickly pointed the flashlight at the wall. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. He hadn't realized that he'd been staring at Susumu's transformation process again. He still found it hard to believe that the mechanic he'd known for over a year was secretly a Kamen Rider as well.

"Don't sweat it," Susumu replied, waving his concerns off as he pulled open one of the metallic bands of his Driver to reveal the collection of gears that he had made. He felt around until his fingers closed around a square-spoked gear with open spokes towards the circular base of the gear. He pushed the gear into the circle on his right bracer and pressed a button.

 **"Shifting gears! Break it up! Jackhammer!"** the Driver shouted, and Susumu's bracer began reconfiguring itself quickly, screws and metal flying everywhere until seconds later a piston had been assembled on his arm. Susumu braced his right arm with his left hand as he positioned the head of the jackhammer against the broken wall and pressed the button again, whereupon the head began to piston rapidly into the broken section of wall. J.J. and Tristan both clapped their hands over their ears, until Susumu turned to look at J.J. from under his helmet, at which point J.J. reluctantly turned the flashlight on the wall again, though he still tried to keep his palm pressed to his ear.

It took Susumu roughly five minutes to finish chipping away at the broken cobblestones lining the wall of the sewer, and then he clawed his way through the thin layer of earth that blocked an opening leading deeper into the sewers. Once the noise stopped, both J.J. and Tristan lowered their hands, gazing at the open path before them with twin looks of delight.

"Well… looks like Abby was right," J.J. commented, impressed.

"If naught else, this may prove promising," Tristan agreed.

"Or it might lead us to a sewage pipe," Susumu cautioned them, trying to temper their excitement. "We don't know what's down here."

"Yeah… but I'm willing to take that chance," J.J replied. "Let's check it out."

Susumu took the flashlight and shined it down the passage as he slowly lead the way, limping slightly as he walked. J.J. and Susumu followed his pace as they began making their way through the earthen tunnel, their footsteps muffled as they resounded off the soft earthen walls. They walked through a twisting passage for a few minutes before a dim blue light appeared at the end of a tunnel a short distance away. As they drew closer, they could hear a faint clanging sound that grew louder as they approached the exit of the tunnel. J.J. and Tristan exchanged glances behind Susumu's back, and J.J. held his hand out for his sword, which flew into his hand, while Tristan pressed a button on his shield and his mace appeared in a flash of golden light, accompanied by a loud mooing sound. They followed behind Susumu as they climbed out of the earth tunnel and emerged into a new section in the ruins.

As with most of the open caverns of the Almencian ruins, the area was softly illuminated in the soft blue glow of the natural crystals that the Almencians seemed to favor as light sources. The area that they emerged into seemed to be a sort of plaza that J.J. saw blended elements of both medieval and Romanesque architecture. There were several two-story houses that he suspected doubled as businesses, judging by the signs that hung off their second stories, with the second level of the white, plaster-faced buildings jutting over the first and held up by fluted Ionic columns. The walls were crisscrossed with wood in a fashion that reminded J.J. of medieval German buildings, and the roofs were tiled with dark shingles, providing a black and white contrast like what one might see in the North Sea region. It was a unique look, but J.J. rather liked it.

To his left, Tristan let out a soft gasp, which caught J.J.'s attention. The knight was gazing around, his mouth slightly agape, as he muttered to himself, "This is impossible…."

"Is it?" J.J. asked lightly, folding his arms as Susumu clicked off the flashlight and peered around. "I'm pretty sure we've seen more impressive things brought over from Almencia before now. Quintus' manor comes to mind."

"You misunderstand, page," Tristan murmured. "This… this is my home. My house was located in this plaza."

J.J.'s smile faded as his eyes widened. "That's… incredible. Do you want to take a little time to see if we can find it?" he asked softly.

"I would. For if my house is here, the Forge cannot be far away," Tristan explained. J.J. nodded. Tristan was giving a pragmatic reason to poke around, but it was obvious that he was also interested in seeing if his old home was still standing.

Unfortunately, as they walked, it quickly became apparent that the few intact buildings near the entrance were the exception rather than the rule. Most of the buildings were in various states of disrepair. Some of the roofs were half-missing or crumbling into the wooden interiors, while others seemed to have suffered burns or water damage. The more they walked, the more disheartened Tristan seemed to become.

"I had nearly forgotten that my homeland was already in poor shape when I was sealed away," he said softly as they traveled cautiously along the white cobblestones, all of them keeping watch for enemies. "It seems that it only got worse once the Black Seraph was revived."

"Yeah… I hadn't realized how much damage the war on your island did until now," J.J. admitted. "I'm sorry you had to see this."

"This doesn't have to be the end of it, though," Susumu piped up. J.J. and Tristan glanced over at him, and the Kamen Rider shrugged. "These buildings aren't in the worst shape I've ever seen. If you wanted to, I'm sure we could restore them."

Tristan's eyes brightened briefly, but then his expression dimmed again. "Your offer is kind, Susumu, but I cannot accept it," he explained softly. Susumu gave him a curious look, and he explained, "There is no point in expending resources to restore an area that is not habitable. It is not as though your citizens wish to dwell underground within the bones of my people. Furthermore, the restoration would be a facsimile, a mere shadow of what I recall."

"You have your memory," Susumu offered. "That's better than most restoration projects. We have teams of historians that laboriously try to recreate what things looked like in their prime. We could do the same for you."

"The other part of it," Tristan replied, "Is that I also wish for this to remain as it is. This is how my homeland looked in its final days. While it pains me, it also serves as a reminder for what has been lost, and what may yet be lost if we fail in our fight. No… your offer is kind, but let us leave skeletons where they lie, shall we?"

Susumu traded a glance with J.J., who simply shrugged as they let Tristan lead the way down the cobblestone path, as he seemed to know where he was going. Thankfully, judging from the size of the cavern they were in, they couldn't travel far, so their journey would be a short one. What was worrying to J.J., however, was how much louder the persistent banging sound was becoming.

The trio turned down a narrow alleyway, with Tristan smiling over his shoulder at them. "If the layout of this plaza remains consistent, my father's smithy will be located at the end of this street," he explained. "I would prefer that we hurry so… we…."

Tristan trailed off, and J.J. and Susumu saw why almost immediately, their pace slowing as their eyes fell on a disappointing scene. A large, mostly open-air building stood at the end of the cavern. Unlike most of the other wooden buildings, this one was constructed primarily of white stone, with a small house attached to a much larger smithy. The smithy consisted of a large anvil, a bellows attached to a hearth, and a row of special tools lined across the rear stone wall.

The flames burning in the hearth caught J.J.'s attention first. They burned a brilliant neon blue color, crackling to pure white near the tips of the flames. The coal they burned over seemed to burn with a strange golden light, and the coal itself had a silvery sheen unlike anything J.J. had ever seen. Furthermore, while he at first assumed that it was merely the reflection of the blue flames, he realized that the anvil was made of Azuron, as were many of the tools lining the walls. However, though the forge itself was unlike anything he had ever seen, it was the figures standing around it that quickly earned his focus.

The Fool and Agnar flanked the smithy like an honor guard, Agnar standing stoically with his claymore held point-down in the sandy earth, while the Fool rocked back and forth impatiently from one foot to the other. In the center of the forge stood the Irise, meticulously hammering away at a piece of glowing white metal. The steady rhythm of its hammer echoed off the walls of the cavern, solving the mystery of what the sound had been.

Tristan's eyes widened with rage, and he started forward, only to have J.J. throw an arm out to stop him. The knight glared at him, but J.J. simply smiled and held up his diary. Tristan's eyes widened with recognition, and he nodded once and pulled out his own shield.

"Henshin!" J.J. and Tristan called at the same time, and their Drivers appeared around their waists simultaneously. J.J. knew that the shout would attract the attention of the Black Seraph's servants, but there was little point in disguising themselves at this point anyways. J.J. held his diary up to his left cheek once he found his stats page and snapped it shut, slotting it into his belt, while Tristan held his shield briefly to his chest before pushing it into his own Driver. The pair spun their D-formers, and two cries echoed off the walls: **"Adventure: Begin!" "Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"** J.J. and Tristan were then surrounded by amber and metallic blue dice, respectively, which spun around them as trumpets blared and cymbals clashed. When the spinning stopped, the two were protected by their armor, and Susumu nodded at them as the three hurried around the corner.

The Fool cackled as they approached, while Agnar turned to gaze at them impassively. "Ah, we were wondering when our dear friends would arrive!" the Fool giggled. "They did not take as long as expected. A pity, we thought we had more time."

"Indeed. It is unfortunate how swiftly they discovered our presence," Agnar growled.

"What is unfortunate is how you discovered my father's forge!" Tristan shouted furiously. "How dare you defile it with your traitorous hands?! I demand you remove that abomination from my birthright!"

"You surrendered your birthright, Sir Tristan, when you swore your vows of knighthood," Agnar replied calmly. "Furthermore, it is the property of the King of Almencia – namely our lord. Therefore, he may occupy it as he pleases."

"I do not recognize a false usurper! Remove yourselves!" Tristan barked.

"Now, now, let's all calm down!" the Fool chuckled. "We're just… borrowing it for the moment. As soon as our business is done, you can have it back, we promise!"

"Oh, sure, sorry to have bothered you," J.J. replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We'll just be back in an hour or so to see if it's our turn yet."

"Good! Farewell!" the Fool laughed, wiggling its fingers at them. J.J. glowered behind his helmet.

"As stated, we do not wish for conflict," Agnar said, slowly loosening his muscles and heaving his sword over his shoulder. "But if you will not be deterred, we shall engage you." He paused, glancing over at the Irise. "How much time do you require to complete your work?"

"RECONSTRUCTION IS PROGRESSING AT AN OPTIMAL PACE. THREE MINUTES ARE REQUIRED TO COMPLETE MOLECULAR RECONFIGURATION AND SHAPING," the Irise replied over the ringing of its hammer.

"Three minutes is more than enough time to take you down, then," Susumu said confidently.

The Fool sighed, reaching into a bag on its waist and withdrawing several grey D-formers with blue veins. He tossed them onto the ground, and they immediately broke apart, quickly forming into the rocky, crystalline bodies of the Shards. The silent figures extended claws and crystalline weapons towards them as they charged forward, with the Fool and Agnar following behind them, the two drawing their own blades as they closed the distance.

Susumu opened a panel on his belt and withdrew a small green capsule, which he placed in the left bracer of his armor and pressed a button. **"Refuel! I'm melting! Acid!"** his Driver shouted, and the nozzle on his left bracer attached a hose to the capsule as Susumu pointed it at three advancing Shards. As they closed in, he pressed another button on his bracer, and a stream of clear liquid sprayed from the nozzle with the force of a firehose, dousing the advancing Shards. Their bodies immediately began dissolving, their rocky hands clawing towards him, until all that was left were puddles of melted rock and crystal. J.J. stared at the molten mess in disgust for a moment before his attention was brought back to the other Shards still closing in on them.

As the first Shard approached him, he parried the brutal slash it leveled at him with its axe-shaped hand, turning it aside and responding with a quick jab at its face. Before his blow landed, its compatriot stepped in and swiped at him with its own bladed arm. J.J. grunted as the attack struck him in the collarbone, but other than what he assumed would be some light bruising, all it did was make him stagger backwards. The true problem came when the Fool jumped on his shoulder and leaped over him, jabbing him in the back with its wooden sword. J.J. let out a cry of pain as he staggered into the Shards, which caught him and held him in place for the Fool.

"And thus we dance again!" the Fool cackled, running its fingers along the tip of its wooden blade. "We should really consider changing partners."

"Sure! You can dance with me instead!" Susumu shouted, aiming the acid spray at the Fool, who bounced backwards before it made contact, cackling. The brass-covered Rider then turned and punched one of the Shards in the shoulder, loosening its grip on J.J. enough for him to yank his arm free. With his sword arm released, J.J. swiped at the other Shard still holding him, his blade slashing it across the neck. The monster collapsed a moment later, crumbling into a mound of dust. The remaining Shard recovered and swiped its axe hand at Susumu, but Susumu caught the attack with his left hand and reached out with his right, the jackhammer still attached to his arm activating again. The piston collided with the Shard's face rapidly, chipping away at the rock effortlessly, and seconds later the Shard collapsed into a pile of ash beside its compatriot.

Off to the side, he noticed that Tristan was being battered by Agnar, who was furiously swinging his claymore at the knight, keeping him on the back foot. Agnar had his mace out and was trying to counter, but each time he cocked his arm back, another blow came down to prevent him from attacking. Susumu followed J.J.'s gaze as well, seeming unsure if he should go help. Before he could decide, the Fool started bouncing around them, daring them to attack and occasionally throwing a jab at them with his wooden sword. J.J. and Susumu almost immediately pressed their backs together, with J.J. brandishing his sword and Susumu keeping his guard up to deflect the probing attacks. Susumu's gaze was fixated on the Irise still calmly hammering away at the molten form of the crown, but every time he tried stepping towards the machine, the Fool knocked him back into place.

"This isn't working!" Susumu growled, knocking away another probing strike from the Fool. "I'm not quick enough to get there in time! Can you…?"

"I might be fast enough, but with this pest jabbing at me…!" J.J. replied with a growl, ducking under a swipe from the Fool. "I can't take more than a couple hits from him! If I had Tristan's shield…!"

J.J. trailed off, a grin spreading across his face. He suddenly turned towards Tristan and shouted, "Tristan! Let's switch!"

Tristan ducked under a wild slash from Agnar and turned to look at him briefly. "What?!"

"Switch with me! Fight the Fool! I'll deal with Agnar!" J.J. shouted.

The Fool cackled and threw another jab at J.J., and Susumu stared at him as J.J. dodged out of the way. "If you're not fast enough, what makes you think Tristan-?!"

"It doesn't matter. We just need to keep him busy, right?" J.J. pointed out. "The Fool keeps avoiding a fight with Tristan, and I suspect it's because that wooden sword of his would barely scratch Tristan. Meanwhile… I think I have a few tricks I can use on Agnar. We'll give you an opening to go take care of the Irise."

"I… suppose that might work," Susumu said slowly, slipping his head under another swipe from the Fool.

Tristan nodded, grunting as he pushed away from Agnar and charged over to the pair. He pressed the hedgehog icon on his Driver as he ran, spikes emerging from his shield. As he closed in on the Fool, the clown suddenly bounced away, and Tristan pursued him, while Agnar tried to chase after Tristan. J.J. realized that they were trying to draw Tristan away and isolate him. He quickly interposed himself between Agnar and Tristan, with the draconic knight swiping at him suddenly as he tried to interfere. J.J. leaped back, avoiding the blade, as Agnar turned his attention to J.J.

"You play a dangerous game, peasant," Agnar spat at him. "Do you not recall how poorly you fared the last time we crossed blades? If you deign to label your humiliation a battle."

"I've got a couple more tricks this time, you know. Let's see if things have changed," J.J. smirked, putting his hand on his Driver. "Susumu! Go!" he shouted. Susumu nodded once and took off towards the Irise, fighting his way through a platoon of Shards as he closed in on the machine.

J.J. gave his blue and red dice a spin as he jumped backwards, out of range of Agnar's sword. **"Reroll! Multiclass: Ranger!"** his Driver shouted, and as a hunting horn resounded off the walls of the cave, J.J. was enveloped by red and blue dice, which coalesced around him to form a single green crystal that spun around him rapidly, while his armor changed color and a cloak wound itself around his neck. Moments later, he was standing atop a building, holding a wooden bow instead of his sword. Agnar growled and leaped at him as J.J. drew an arrow and shot it at the knight.

Agnar smacked the arrow away as it flew towards him, but as he closed in on J.J. and slashed at him, J.J. jumped back and fired off three more arrows in quick succession. Agnar blocked the first one, and the second missed, but the third bit deep into his shoulder. Agnar growled in pain, clutching his arm as the bolt buried itself into the thinner material protecting his arm, and to J.J.'s delight, he saw the knight's grip on his sword loosen. The draconic warrior grabbed the thorny arrow and roughly yanked it out of his armor, which made J.J. smirk. In doing so, Agnar had done even more damage to himself, as the thorns tore into his flesh as he yanked it out.

"Stand and fight, coward!" Agnar snapped at him.

"Why? Even if I fought you like a knight, it's not like you'd have any more respect for me," J.J. retorted, firing another arrow at the red knight, which he barely managed to deflect. "Besides, isn't this the way you'd expect a filthy peasant to fight?"

"A peasant using a bow has no right to stand on the same battlefield as a knight!" Agnar shouted at him, leaning out of the way of another arrow.

"Crecy and Agincourt beg to differ," J.J. commented calmly. "Not that you were around for those," he added as an afterthought. He leaped upward again as Agnar growled and charged at him, firing another arrow which slammed into his left arm. Agnar gasped with pain and yanked the arrow out, clearly growing frustrated. He glanced to the left and noticed Susumu still trying to carve his way through a platoon of Shards, his back turned. The red knight hissed, turning to charge after him, at which point J.J. jumped in front of him, putting his hand on his red and black D-formers.

"Attacking an opponent who has his back turned? Very chivalrous of you," J.J. growled. "Fine, you want a stand-up brawl?"

He gave the red and black D-formers a quick spin, and his Driver shouted, **"Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!"** Agnar was thrown backwards as J.J. was surrounded by black and red jewels, which coalesced into a single silver gem that spun around him rapidly as his leather armor hardened, becoming a coat of chain links under a light grey tabard as small wings grew from the sides of his helmet. When the spinning stopped, he was standing boldly between Agnar and Susumu, gripping his halberd tightly as he waited for Agnar to attack him again.

In the brief lull in combat, he looked over Agnar's shoulder to see Tristan matching the Fool move for move. Although the clown was much faster than Agnar, for some reason the blue-armored knight seemed to be able to predict his movements, and he kept the Fool backed into a corner, raining blows down on him that the Fool only barely managed to deflect. Tristan seemed just as confused as J.J., but his body appeared to be moving instinctively, as if he was unconsciously read the Fool's next move before he could make it.

"Damn… you… move!" the Fool snapped, one of the few times J.J. had ever heard the clown utter a sentence that wasn't combined with mocking laughter. Tristan, however, continued to shift his weight effortlessly, blocking the Fool's ineffective wooden sword with his thick shield and countering with a hard bash to the clown's bronze mask, which sent the clown reeling.

Behind him, J.J. heard Susumu grunt, followed by the metallic sound of him reaching inside his case and grabbing another gear. J.J. heard him set it into his bracer, and a cry of **"Shifting gears! Dig in! Drill!"** resounded off the cave walls. J.J. then cringed as the high-pitched sound of a drill boring into rock echoed behind him as Susumu literally began tunneling through the pack of Shards keeping him from the Irise. As if to warn them of the danger, the Irise shouted, "RECONSTRUCTION COMPLETE IN APPROXIMATELY SIXTY SECONDS!"

J.J. didn't have time to dwell on that any longer as Agnar was back on his feet and charging towards J.J., swinging his massive claymore down in a sharp arc. J.J. stepped back quickly, the long blade cleaving through the air, but the draconic knight followed it up with a horizontal slash that J.J. caught on the haft of his halberd. He frowned to himself as he realized that not only could he see through Agnar's moves, but his attacks felt far less powerful as well. He knew that he'd gotten stronger, but he didn't think he was quite at Agnar's level yet. Then his eyes fell on the holes in Agnar's armor where his arrows had penetrated his suit, and realization dawned on him as a grin spread across his face.

Grunting, he pushed Agnar's blade back and responded with a hard vertical slash of his own. Agnar brought his blade up and parried the blow, but before he could follow it up with a counter, J.J. stepped in and elbowed him in the stomach. The attack didn't do any damage, but it pushed Agnar back enough for J.J. to get another diagonal slash in, which Agnar failed to adequately defend against. Though the attack was blocked, he was a bit slow and the blade of J.J.'s halberd bit into his shoulder, causing the knight to cry out. J.J. followed up the attack quickly, withdrawing his blade and sweeping towards Agnar's legs. The knight jumped over the attack and tried to counter with a stab, but his attack was once again slow and J.J. parried the blow, smirking.

"You feeling okay there, Agnar?" J.J. taunted him. "Arms a bit sore?"

"Silence!" Agnar snapped at him, swinging wildly. J.J. stepped back and knocked the attack aside, giving the staff of his halberd a little twirl before jabbing it at Agnar. The attack connected with his chest, causing the knight to grunt and stagger backwards. His armor protected him, but J.J.'s attack was almost a taunt, showing that he could finally keep up with Agnar, despite his years of experience. Of course, he mused, it was only because he finally had enough options available to him and enough experience to use them effectively. This strategy could work in future fights, though, he realized. Agnar had no real way of properly defending against his arrows, and as long as he kept his distance, he could keep pelting Agnar until he tired out, at which point he could engage Agnar in melee and wear him down.

Agnar noticed the taunting pause in combat and let out a soft growl. "Do not be overconfident, peasant," he warned J.J. "Bear in mind that I have yet to use my full power. Furthermore, even if you would claim victory in this skirmish, we have still emerged victorious in the battle."

J.J. felt his blood run cold as he looked over his shoulder and saw Susumu still trying to wade through the tide of Shards, and though he was only thirty feet away, the Irise announced, "THE REQUESTED ITEM WILL BE COMPLETED IN TEN… NINE… EIGHT…."

J.J. heard Susumu swear under his breath, and he threw off the two Shards restraining him before kneeling down to adjust something at his feet. J.J. recognized the pose as the same one he had been about to take when he had said he was going to use his Rider kick, and he felt a thrill of mixed anticipation and worry run through him. Susumu was cutting it close, but perhaps if he got his finishing attack off….

Susumu's hands stopped, however, just above his ankles, and J.J. noticed even from this distance that he was hesitating again. Swearing under his breath, he turned to run at the Irise himself, but Agnar suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards and throwing him to the ground. With his guard momentarily broken, J.J. was left vulnerable as Agnar stood over him, pointing his blade at J.J.'s throat and keeping him from moving if he didn't want to risk being impaled.

J.J.'s eyes widened behind his helmet, and from his position on the ground, he could see past Agnar's legs. While Tristan had been able to back the Fool into a corner, J.J. could tell that from his distance, he wouldn't be able to get to the Forge in time either. If anyone was going to stop the Irise, it had to be Susumu.

"Gizmo, just attack the damn thing!" J.J. shouted. Susumu glanced up at him, his hands still shaking as they shifted closer to his ankles.

"THREE… TWO… ONE… ITEM COMPLETED," the Irise announced, and everyone seemed to stop as the machine held the finished object aloft. In its hand was a golden circlet, though the gold had an unusual sheen to it. Rainbow colors seemed to ripple across its surface, reflecting light like a diamond. The crown was studded with a half dozen peaks, and each of the peaks was hollowed into a hexagonal divet, with similar indentations studding the rim of the crown as well. Agnar lowered his sword slightly, allowing J.J. to scramble out from under his blade, while the Fool cackled madly with laughter.

"Finally! It is whole once more! To think this could be done with mere scraps of what once was serving as a base!" the Fool crowed.

"Truly, a miracle has been achieved," Agnar nodded reverently. "And, it would seem, your mistake undone, Fool."

"Let's not dwell on the past, shall we?" the Fool giggled. "Now, we-!"

"Gizmo!" J.J. shouted, breaking the momentary lull in combat. "Grab it and destroy it!"

Susumu shook himself, his hands once again heading for his ankles, but before he could finish the movement, the Irise suddenly seized up, clanking loudly.

"PRIMARY FUNCTION… COMPLETED," it announced. Then, before anyone could react, the steel D-former lodged in its chest began spinning rapidly, glowing with a bright, silvery light that J.J. winced away from, shielding his eyes, as everyone else did the same. However, even though he was forced to look away, and though it had been a while since he had last seen it, J.J. immediately recognized the light for what it was, and it made his heart sink even as he reeled from the impossibility of it.

The Irise was achieving Apotheosis.


	34. Special Session: Alchemachina, Pt 3

**Special Session: Kamen Rider Page – Alchemachina**

 **Part 3**

J.J. kept his hand over his face for several moments, grimacing as he was blinded by the searing light of the Irise's Apotheosis. When the silvery light began to fade, however, a sense of dread began to creep over him, and he almost didn't want to look. Bracing for the worst, he slowly put his arm and gazed at the ascended form of the Irise.

The first thing he noticed was that the industrial body of the Irise had been refined and streamlined. While its torso had originally been a sort of round boiler, it now more closely resembled a knight's cuirass. Gear-shaped pauldrons capped its shoulders, while the metal tubes that had hung at the sides of its body had changed form into proper armored arms. The claw and hammer remained the same, but were now smoothly integrated into its wrists. The legs, likewise, had become greaves and boots. The Pupil situated atop the head remained the same, but as it looked around, the motion seemed somehow smoother, more lifelike. It slowly flexed its claw, opening and closing it experimentally.

"Remarkable," the Irise noted, its voice still tinny, but no longer the booming announcement that J.J. had become used to. The construct seemed to notice this as well, pressing a claw to its throat in a very human fashion. It suddenly began laughing. "That… that sound came from inside my body!" it cried, fascinated. " _My_ body! I have a body!"

"Well done," Agnar said blandly, sounding utterly disinterested in the Irise's excitement. "Now, if you would relinquish with the crown, I shall endeavor to deliver it to our master."

A figure darted from the left, suddenly charging Agnar, who managed to swing his blade around in time to counter the sudden attack. His blade caught Susumu's bracers, but the golden Kamen Rider slipped under the blade once he had blocked it, delivering two quick punches to the draconic knight's torso. Agnar grunted in surprise and staggered back as Susumu held his hands up in a boxing stance. "I'm not letting you take the crown!" he snapped.

"Pitiful. Attempting to remedy your failure to stop us?" Agnar taunted him. "A shame that it's a futile effort now, is it not? Stop dithering about, Fool!" he added, addressing his companion.

In the moments that they had been blinded, the Fool had taken the opportunity to slip around Tristan, something the three only now noticed. The clown giggled as it snatched the crown from the Irise's claw, giving it a sweeping bow before announcing, "Ah, the jester shall serve as the messenger? How droll! Our master might think we're mocking him!"

"Deliver the crown, Fool!" Agnar barked. J.J. swore under his breath, springing forward to grab the Fool, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tristan charging towards the harlequin as well. Seeing this, the Fool immediately sprinted out of the cavern, cackling madly. Before either of them could pursue the clown, the Irise stepped between them, swinging its hammer down towards them. Both J.J. and Tristan stepped back in time to avoid the attack, but the earth shook beneath them as the hammer slammed into the ground, sending them reeling.

"You are not pursuing him," the Irise announced.

"What do you care?!" Susumu shouted at the machine, ducking under a swing from Agnar before following it up with a hard jab that caught the knight in the face, sending him reeling. "Your mission is over!"

"I know," the Irise chuckled. "That's the beauty of it… I can decide now! I have free will! And I'm choosing to help those that helped me!" the Irise added, its tinny voice rising as it swung its hammer horizontally. Tristan stepped in front of J.J, holding up his shield to deflect the attack, but he was knocked aside like a ragdoll and sent careening into the hard rock wall of the cavern. He let out a grunt of pain as he slid down the wall slowly.

"Tristan!" J.J. cried, growling as he twirled his halberd and charged at the Irise. The Irise responded by swinging at him as well, but J.J. chose to jump into the air, avoiding both the attack and being staggered by the shockwaves from the hammer slamming into the earth. Before the Irise could react, he slashed downward as he shouted out. The Irise instinctively brought its claw up to defend itself, and before J.J.'s blade connected, the metal of the arm shimmered, turning the steel-blue of Azuron just before his attack hit. The blade of his halberd bounced off the patch of tougher metal, and J.J. let out a cry of pain, his hands vibrating and slightly numb as he gripped the halberd tighter to lessen the sudden shock of pain.

"Wha-?!" he gasped as he landed in front of the Irise. Gritting his teeth, he stepped in again and swung his halberd in a horizontal arc, putting more power behind the blow. The attack was too quick for the machine to react to this time, his blade biting deep into the steel armor and tearing a two-foot gash in its torso. J.J. smirked with satisfaction as he finished his arc, giving his weapon a slight twirl. Through the gap in the metal, he noticed that the inside of the Irise was hollow, so the armor that comprised its body was all the structure it had.

The Irise looked down at the long tear in its body, then calmly reached down and put its hammer-shaped arm over the wound. J.J. stared in shock as the metal around the wound again began shifting form, becoming a silvery liquid metal that reminded him of mercury. The liquid flowed over the wound before shimmering again and hardening to become steel. In moments, the gash had been completely repaired.

As J.J. hesitated, trying to decide which form to use against something that could instantly heal itself, the Irise let out a metallic, monotone laugh of delight. "Incredible! My compliments to your master!" it addressed Agnar.

"Of course," Agnar nodded. "His power creates miracles, which is why I have sworn myself to his service. Now, as thanks for our master's gift, you shall return it to him."

"…I beg your pardon?" the Irise asked. Agnar lowered his head threateningly.

"As my lord promised, he has provided you with sentience. However, he also requires your completed jewel now that you have achieved Apotheosis," Agnar explained. "He has completed his contract, so now it is time that you complete yours."

"Are you mad?!" the Irise shrieked, its voice squealing with metallic feedback that made all present wince and cover their ears over their helmets. "I've just been given life! Why would I surrender that to you?!"

"It is not for you to decide," Agnar said, advancing on the machine, gripping his claymore tightly. "You swore your life to the Black Seraph's service. It is now his to do with as he pleases."

"No! That isn't a contract I'm going to obey!" the Irise snapped. Then it paused, chuckling in a slightly unhinged manner. "That… feels wonderful. I can refuse! No. No! No, I'm will not give up my freedom, my life, simply because you asked."

"Then it shall be taken from you, by force if necessary," Agnar announced. The red knight gripped his blade in both hands and charged in, slashing at the robot with a loud cry. The Irise's claw shimmered, turning a gleaming silver, and before Agnar's blade could connect with its body, its claw clamped down on his sword mid-swing. Agnar looked up in shock as the machine twisted its claw, ripping his sword from his hands, before throwing it across the cave. Agnar stared at his empty hands, dumbstruck at having been disarmed so easily.

"I'm going to return to the surface," the Irise announced. "I will test the limits of these powers, and enjoy my newfound sentience. If you follow me, Kamen Riders," it added, a lingering, threatening pause hanging in the air for a moment, "…well, we shall see who values their continued consciousness more."

The Irise turned and walked out of the cavern, its heavy footfalls clanging along the stone floor. Agnar stared after it in shock for a few moments, before letting out a furious growl and sprinting over to his sword. As he picked it up, he turned to glare at the remaining three Riders.

"That abomination is mine," he snarled. "Should any of you attempt to engage it, I shall happily dispatch you before claiming my prize."

"You really are a dog looking for headpats from your master, aren't you?" J.J. couldn't resist taunting him. Agnar simply lowered his eyes, indicating that he was glaring from behind his helmet, before turning to run after the Irise, leaving the trio alone in the cavern. Susumu was once again kneeling on the ground, his hands shaking as they hovered over his boot. J.J. and Tristan traded looks and hurried over to him.

"You alright?" J.J. asked.

"I… I'm sorry," Susumu murmured, staring at the floor. "This is the second time I've screwed up when I had the chance to end everything with one kick. I… every time I try to start my Rider Kick, I remember how it felt… the pain of my leg being shredded… having to rebuild my leg from scrap parts… attaching nerves to metal… the-"

"Peace, Susumu," Agnar interrupted him. "We understand that you have endured unspeakable horrors in your past, and we bear you no grudge. Rise."

"Yeah, no point in dwelling on what's been done. Let's worry about how we're going to stop that thing instead," J.J. sighed, folding his arms over his chest.

"I… right," Susumu said softly, pushing himself up. "So what's the plan?"

"First thing's first. At least we have a way to track that Diemon," J.J. announced, pulling his diary from his belt, reverting to his Adventurer Class, and clicking his sword down to its quill form.

"Diemon?" Susumu repeated. "That's an Irise, J.J."

"Is it?" J.J. asked, grinning slightly behind his helmet. "Far as I can tell, it's a sentient being that just achieved Apotheosis using one of the Black Seraph's jewels. And it even claims it's alive now. If that's not a Diemon, what would you call it?"

"An Irise. But you make a good point," Susumu admitted.

J.J.'s pen wriggled in his fingers, awaiting his instructions, as he turned to a blank page. He frowned lightly, chewing on his bottom lip. "The question is what its name is. I want to call it an automaton…."

"That does not seem to fully encompass its abilities, page," Tristan said thoughtfully. "Were it a mere machine, it would not boast of possessing life."

"No… and the way it repaired itself, it was almost like watching a scrape heal itself. It kinda looks more like a knight, too, than a machine. A full set of plate… armor…." J.J. trailed off, a grin spreading across his face as he suddenly put his pen on the paper. He scribbled a couple of short words while Tristan and Susumu peered over his shoulder curiously.

"…Living armor?" Tristan asked curiously.

"In some games it's called animated armor. But since it seemed to have more attributes associated with true life than a possessed suit of plate mail, I figured I would suggest living armor for its name," J.J. replied. His quill seemed to tap its feather thoughtfully against the page, as though processing, before it began skating across the paper. For the next few minutes, it outlined the stats of the Diemon, as well as its abilities, which made J.J. scowl.

"Complete control over the transmutation of metals, huh?" Susumu asked bitterly. "Wish I had that kind of power."

"Hardening the metals that comprise its body would make it formidable enough, but its regenerative powers seem particularly troublesome," Tristan chimed in. "This will be a difficult foe to fell."

"Maybe. But I have an idea about how we might be able to deal with it," J.J. said, glancing up at his companions. "I'm going to have to ask you two to trust me, though."

"Of course we trust you," Susumu said immediately, giving him a sidelong look. "But whenever someone says that, it means they're about to do something stupid."

"Yep. I'm going to go after that Diemon alone," J.J. announced. Tristan and Susumu both stared at him in silence, neither able to believe what he'd just said.

"Page, you have never been this bold before. Not when you bear no grudge towards your opponent, anyways," Tristan said cautiously. "What, pray tell, has provoked this rather reckless suggestion?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a horrible idea," Susumu agreed. "I didn't think you'd be the one I'd have to say this to, but you shouldn't go chasing after it by yourself. You _can_ rely on us."

"I know I can. And I trust you two," J.J. said with a shrug. "Which is why I'm counting on the both of you to get this forge working again and come up with something that can take the Irise down."

There was a short pause as Tristan and Susumu looked at each other, each apparently wondering if J.J. was losing it. "That is impossible, page," Tristan said firmly. "I do not even possess the knowledge of how this forge is operated."

"Really? You just said that this was your birthright, Tristan," J.J. replied, folding his arms over his chest, still loosely holding his diary in one hand. "Do you really expect me to believe that your father never showed you anything about how to work it?"

"That…!" Tristan protested.

"And you, Susumu," he added, turning to the mechanic, though his voice was encouraging. "Yeah, you messed up earlier, but this is a good way to make up for it. You're bright enough to make a suit of freaking power armor. Do you really expect me to believe you can't learn alchemy?"

"…Where're you going with this, J.J.?" Susumu asked.

"Look, if we go charging in after the Diemon with our arsenal as it is, it's going to keep healing itself. We'll just be wearing ourselves out," J.J. explained. "But we have an alchemical forge right in front of us. If you two can figure out how the forge works, maybe you can come up with something that can halt the Diemon's transmutation abilities. Otherwise, we're going to be fighting an enemy that's practically invincible. Even better, maybe you can come up with something that could destroy the Crown of Almencia before the Black Seraph uses it for whatever he's planning."

"You are placing a great deal of faith in supposition, page," Tristan pointed out. "Typically, you devise a plan based on what you know of our enemies' weaknesses."

"I know, but we don't have the time to experiment and figure out what its weaknesses are," J.J. replied shortly. "Based on what the diary told us about the Irise and its abilities, this is the best idea that I have, even if it's a bit of a shot in the dark. If the forge could create the Crown of Almencia from scrap, maybe it can create something to counter alchemical creation as well, which would be useful for destroying both the Irise and the crown." He let out a sigh of frustration. "We don't have much time to discuss this, guys. If Agnar tracks that thing down and starts fighting it… even if he doesn't take its D-former, they could still wind up destroying half the city. I know how strong a Diemon that's reached Apotheosis is, and Agnar's a loose cannon hellbent on getting as many Apotheosis D-formers as he can. You said it yourself, Susumu. The Irises don't care about human lives, and neither does Agnar."

"And you intend to engage them both? Alone?" Tristan asked skeptically.

"I've got the diary that can track Diemons," J.J. pointed out. "And I wouldn't be any use to you two down here since I haven't got the faintest clue about how to work even a normal forge. I also know that I'm not as strong as either of you, but at the very least, maybe I can minimize the damage those two do to the city while you two work. This is the only idea I have. Unless you two have something better, in which case, I'd love to hear it."

He folded his arms stubbornly over his chest while Susumu and Tristan traded looks. Finally, Tristan sighed and chuckled, looking at J.J. with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

"You have changed, page," Tristan commented. "When I first met you, you certainly would not have volunteered to face two powerful opponents like this."

"I'm just doing what either of you would," J.J. replied simply. "If I can't help with the forge, I should at least stall them for time."

"Still, your courage is admirable. Alright, J.J., we'll see if we can use this thing to come up with something to take the Irise down," Susumu said with a nod. "You keep them occupied for as long as you can."

"Please hurry," J.J. said, looking over his shoulder one last time as his hand dropped to his belt. "I don't know how long I can hold them. If the city gets reduced to a pile of smoking rubble, I'm blaming you two."

J.J. gave his blue D-former a quick spin, and the cavern resounded with a cry of, **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** As a saxophone blared in the air, he was surrounded by a sapphire die, and as it spun around him, his leather armor opened into a blue leather jacket while his sword split into a pair of daggers, which he slid into his belt as soon as his transformation finished, since he had little need for them at the moment. He then tossed his allies a last wave before turning and sprinting down the corridor that Agnar and the Living Armor Diemon had taken.

As he suspected, he ended up following a tunnel that had been burrowed straight through the earth, likely the direct route the Black Seraph's servants had taken to reach the forge. It was a circular tunnel of earth that slanted at a forty-five degree angle, making it a fairly steep climb, but a manageable one. With the enhanced speed granted to him by his Thief Class, he was able to race to the surface in a few minutes, emerging from a hole in the ground that had been carved out of the center of a small park. A few workers had been peering into it when J.J. popped out of the ground like a gopher, glancing around and blinking in the sunlight. The construction workers stared at him in shock as he pulled himself up and brushed himself off.

"Huh. I saw my shadow. Sorry guys, six more weeks of winter," he quipped. "Did you all happen to see a guy in red armor or a giant robot?"

"Th… that way," one of the workers said, pointing towards the city. J.J.'s lighthearted demeanor vanished instantly as he heard screams and the distant sounds of crashing metal and sirens. He turned to the workers, nodding once in thanks.

"You guys need to get out of here. It's about to get dangerous," he said.

"We were just asked to plug this hole so that none of those rock monsters that've been wandering around the city can get out," another woman explained. "It'll take us about ten minutes, then we'll-"

"There's no time," J.J. said firmly. "Get yourselves to safety. Once that monster is taken care of, you'll have plenty of time to fill this hole. For now, please get out of here."

The workers traded looks, then turned and began to flee from the sounds of chaos echoing from deeper in the city. J.J. sighed to himself, glancing at the hole. The other reason he hadn't wanted the hole filled was so that Tristan and Susumu had an easy way out once they finished figuring out how to use the forge.

" _If_ they figure it out," J.J. muttered under his breath as he began to run. "Brilliant idea, asking them to just come up with a solution for you. Figure something out _yourself_ while you're out here, J.J. Save them the trouble."

Once he neared the bottom of a three-story building, he took a running leap, landing lightly on the roof. He smiled faintly to himself as he charged towards the next, higher building, and jumped halfway up its face before grabbing a fire escape and hoisting himself up the rest of the way. Privately, he had to admit that he had gotten better at using his powers. The last time he had tried building hopping, he'd barely been able to keep up with Kelsie and the Fool. Now, he felt like he could cover twice the distance with half the effort.

Moments later, after traversing several rooftops, he stood on top of an office building overlooking the Mayor's Square, the central plaza of Marville. The statue of the first mayor of Marville overlooked the city hall, standing serenely in his eighteenth-century coat with one hand extended and the other behind his back. It was in his shadow that Agnar was furiously slashing at the Irise, his blade carving deep gashes in the steel armor of the machine, but each time the metal simply melted down and covered the gap anew, rendering Agnar's furious assault pointless.

"Enough of this!" Agnar shouted, stepping back for a moment as the Irise retreated, holding its claw over a long vertical gash in its center. "Surrender your jewel in the name of the Black Seraph!"

"Why? I'm grateful for his gift, but that doesn't mean I'm going to just relinquish it!" the Irise countered, edging over to a telephone pole. "Would you?"

"Of course I would! Once my homeland has been restored, I would happily lay down my life for my liege!" Agnar exclaimed.

"How curious. To place so little value on your life that you would be willing to throw it away so readily," the Irise said thoughtfully. "Sadly, I don't share your suicidal ideal."

The Irise closed its claw around the telephone pole, melting it down into a mercury-like liquid. As the large molten globs of silvery metal hit the ground, it produced computer chips from a slot on the top of its head, and flung them at the puddles of metal. The puddles began to take shape, rising up and forming the shimmering bodies of Chips, which began to lurch towards Agnar, their needle-like arms outstretched.

Agnar hissed, reaching for a bag tied to his waist and sighing softly as he withdrew a handful of rocky D-formers with blue veins running through them. He seemed to hesitate, saying sadly to the dice, "Forgive me." He then threw the dice on the ground, which split open and formed into the stony forms of Shards, which flanked him with their crystalline weapon-like arms outstretched. With a reluctant slump of his shoulders, Agnar pointed his greatsword at the Chips, and his army of Shards charged forward to engage the metallic dolls.

"And that's what I was afraid of," J.J. muttered, frowning at the chaotic battle starting to brew beneath him. Shards swung their sword and axe-like arms into the soft metal bodies of the Chips, long claws raking against thin needle-like arms, while the Shards skittered forward unnaturally, weaving under heavy blows from their rocky opponents while jabbing at them with their thin arms. In the chaos, the Irise turned and began fleeing, while Agnar swore under his breath and began to follow, only to be held up by a pair of Chips that began jabbing at him.

With the Irise beating a retreat, J.J. began running again, his Thief Class and higher position allowing him to easily catch up with it. Once he was above it, he jumped from the top of a building, gripping his knives tightly. He landed just in front of the Irise, slashing at its torso, aiming at the D-former in its chest. While he had gotten the drop on the machine, however, its rapidly swiveling eye caught sight of him at the last moment, and as it stopped short, the tip of his dagger narrowly missed cutting the D-former from its body. Had he been using his shortsword, he would have landed a critical blow, he thought bitterly.

"Another one?!" the Irise cried. "Why can't you just leave me be?!"

"I might be willing to entertain that, actually," J.J. said, suddenly realizing something as he stood up. "Let's say that you are alive. I'd… really rather not take something's life if I can avoid it."

The Irise stopped, staring at him warily. "Indeed?"

"Yeah. But let me ask you one question, first," J.J. said, lowering his weapons.

"Ask," the Irise replied, slowly lowering its guard as well.

"You were just given life for the first time. What do you intend to do with it, exactly?" J.J. asked.

The Irise hesitated, looking up at the sky as it pondered the question. J.J. was struck by how human-like it looked in that moment. It slowly lowered its eye down to look at him, the red pupil dilating.

"I… hadn't considered it, in truth. What I would like to do, I suppose, is return to where I was created," the Irise said finally. "Perhaps I could restore the other members of my kind, let my race start again."

"Really?" J.J. asked cautiously. "I heard that the Pupils were imperfect machines that did quite a bit of damage when they were allowed to run rampant. What, do you intend to give them life as well? How, exactly?" he pointed out.

"Unknown," the Irise admitted. "I would start by reconstructing the other Pupils. I have not thought beyond that."

"Could I… convince you not to?" J.J. asked hesitantly.

"Would you stop me, Kamen Rider?" the Irise asked, its voice taking on a threatening tone.

"As I said, I'm willing to negotiate. Though Gizmo might raise some objections. It'd be better for you to not-!" Before J.J. could finish his sentence, the Irise suddenly swung its hammer at him. J.J. sprang backwards, avoiding the attack, while the Irise loomed over him.

"Unacceptable. If you Kamen Riders will continue to stand in my way, then you must be eliminated," the Irise announced, its voice turning more metallic, and more threatening.

"Then… I'm sorry," J.J. sighed, bringing his daggers up in front of him. "Alea iacta est," he murmured, before diving in and slashing at the Irise's torso.

* * *

"And that should do it. Looks like we've got the fire back to its original color," Susumu said, stepping on the bellows one last time and adding a little more air to the fire, which had been flagging and turning a dark indigo color. With that last puff of air, the flames were once again roaring, emitting a bright blue glow that illuminated the entire cavern.

"Excellent. Though I must admit that I am still uncertain as to whether we can produce what the page requested," Tristan said, gazing into the blue flames with what Susumu could only assume was a solemn expression. Both had decided to remain in their armored forms, since they wanted some protection when working with something as unfamiliar and potentially dangerous as his father's forge.

"Yeah, that was a little vague," Susumu chuckled. "Just make something that'll help him. Really specific, J.J. Why not try praying for a miracle while you're at it?" He then glanced over at Tristan. "I hope we aren't wasting our time here. I still say it'd be better if we were up there helping him fight. Are you sure you don't remember anything that your father might have told you about using this forge?"

"I confess, I had little interest in my father's work, even when he attempted to educate me," Tristan said sheepishly. "I was far more interested in following the path of knighthood, even though it was nigh impossible for me. I do recall, however, that he did possess a book that he consulted regularly. Perhaps we should begin by searching for that."

"Sounds like a good place to start," Susumu agreed reluctantly. "Let's look around a bit." If nothing else, he thought wryly, they could tell J.J. that they tried to find the book before they gave up and went to go help him.

The two worked in silence for a little while, combing the forge. After a few minutes, Susumu broke the silence. "I don't blame you for not paying attention to your father's work, honestly," he said conversationally. "I didn't really want to work as a mechanic when I was younger, so I didn't listen to my dad much either. And I fully understand dreaming of being a knight instead. Many kids still grow up dreaming of being a hero," he commented. He then frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Tristan. "Do you regret it?"

"Becoming a knight? At times," Tristan admitted, kneeling down to look under the dark blue anvil. "I have certainly seen more than my fair share of warfare, and I do not sleep easily. A trait I believe we both share," he added, shooting Susumu a pointed glance.

Susumu winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not just the nightmares that keep me up," he admitted. "It's also the pain in my leg." He looked away, feeling his stomach sinking. "I think I scared the hell out of J.J. last night. I still feel a bit guilty about that."

"I have worked with him for long enough to assure you that he was not frightened. Surprised, perhaps, but I saw no fear in his eyes this morning. He has grown stronger in that regard," Tristan said, his tone slightly fond.

"Sounds like the teacher is proud that his student is growing up," Susumu commented.

"As any would be. Nevertheless, to address the issue at hand," Tristan added, lowering his head slightly to give Susumu a grim look. "Will your injury continue to prove a hindrance?"

Susumu exhaled slowly, unable to meet his gaze. "I can't promise you it won't," he admitted. He then looked up at the ceiling as a rumble echoed above them. "But I wish it wasn't. We shouldn't have let him go up there alone," he hissed. "I should be the one up there fighting, not him. I'm worried he's going to be in over his head. It might be too soon for him to-"

"He is stronger than you think," Tristan gently interrupted. "And he was correct. You are of more use helping me discover how my father's forge works."

"I just wish I could still do both," Susumu replied softly. "A year ago, this wouldn't have even been an issue."

Tristan turned suddenly, gazing at him stoically. "Susumu, you wish to project the image of an experienced warrior, yet you cannot deny that you have suffered a grievous injury. If you are truly so damaged, so be it, but do not act as if it is not a hindrance. Particularly when we approach a critical moment, such as when we must decide how to attack an opponent," Tristan chastised him. "If we cannot depend upon you, then acting as though we can shall only worsen our situation in battle."

"I know!" Susumu said sharply, before lowering his voice. "I know. In my head, I know I need to just grit my teeth and push the button, but… when it comes time to perform a Rider Kick, I keep flashing back to when I lost my leg. All that pain…"

"You are not the first warrior to experience such trepidation," Tristan replied. "I have known more than one warrior who lost a limb and grew wary of the battlefield. There is no shame in bearing such a wound, or the scars that accompany it."

"Yeah, but… I can't afford to let it keep slowing me down," Susumu said, unable to meet Tristan's eyes.

"No? Do you not have allies supporting you?" Tristan pointed out.

"That's not the issue. I also have to set a good example," Susumu muttered.

"Pray, whose approval do you seek? The page's, perhaps?" he asked, giving Susumu a knowing look as he looked away. "To what end?"

Susumu grimaced behind his helmet. "It's… complicated," he said slowly.

"Endeavor to explain while we continue our search," Tristan encouraged him, kneeling down to look under the workbench again.

Susumu was silent for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. "I'm his senpai. I don't suppose you'd know what that means, though, would you? I guess the best parallel would be the concept of a knight and his squire. You understand what I'm getting at if I put it in those terms?"

"Ah. You refer to the bond of a master and apprentice," Tristan said.

"Not quite. I'm referring more to the fact that I'm the senior Kamen Rider, and he's the junior. In my homeland, a senpai is expected to act a certain way towards his kohai, his junior. The senior is supposed to offer wisdom and advice to the junior, who's in turn supposed to show gratitude and respect. The senpai should also act as a role model for the kohai to follow. And yet…."

"You feel as though you've failed to act properly before the page," Tristan finished the sentence, gazing at him quietly.

"I couldn't even do a damn Rider Kick!" Susumu shouted, covering his eyes with one hand. "I'm supposed to be the one who's done all this before! Yet I had not one, but two chances to just _end_ this battle, and I choked both times!"

"Your frustration is understandable," Tristan said calmly.

"Understandable?! It shouldn't _be_ an issue!" Susumu cried.

Tristan gazed at him quietly, pinning him with a look from under his mask, which sent a shiver up Susumu's spine. "You appear to be mistaken in your conception of what it means to be a senior warrior," he said calmly. "Do you believe that because you are the senior that you cannot still fail? That there are no more lessons to learn? That you do not still have room to grow as well?"

Susumu felt his face flush. "That's not what I was getting at!" he protested angrily.

"Indeed? Then why are you concerned about how you appear before the page?" Tristan countered calmly. "You have suffered a serious injury that has hindered your fighting abilities. There is no shame in that. As I stated, I have known warriors who have suffered similar injuries. Yet, despite that, you insist on acting as though you do not possess a weakness. By doing so, you merely emphasize it."

Susumu glanced away. "Look, if I can just grit my teeth and power through this injury…." he muttered.

"Clearly that method of addressing the issue is not the solution," Tristan replied shortly. "Usually, I would approve of such a mindset, but twice you have failed at a critical moment, have you not? Is that not the root of your anger at yourself?"

Susumu didn't answer, still not able to meet Tristan's eyes.

"In that case, perhaps you should fight with a different mindset," Tristan continued, ignoring his silence. "Rely upon us more."

Susumu felt a lump rising in his throat. "It's hard for me to do that," he said softly. "The last time that I did…."

Tristan walked over, grabbing him by the shoulder. He lowered his head slightly so that both Riders were eye-to-eye. "Rely upon us more," he repeated, his tone firm. "As you said to the page, you do not have to fight this battle alone."

Susumu took a shaky breath, before nodding once. "Alright," he muttered finally.

"Good," Tristan said, then looked thoughtful, glancing up at the ceiling. "And if you fear you are not providing a worthwhile example for the page, you are sorely mistaken."

"How do you know?" Susumu asked softly.

"I have been watching his growth. He was originally a very reluctant warrior, seeking every opportunity to avoid battle. Yet, when he experienced his darkest hour, something pulled him from the brink of surrender. Do you know what it was?" Tristan asked calmly.

"I imagine you're going to say courage or something," Susumu said with a slight chuckle.

"No. It was your example," Tristan replied. Susumu looked up slowly, staring blankly at the knight. "When he came to me after rising from the depths of despair, he did not state that his goal was to seek more power or become a more skilled warrior. He told me that his goal was to prove himself worthy of the title of Kamen Rider. That is the title that you first introduced him to, Susumu. What he strives for is to live up to the example you set for him when you introduced him to your world."

Susumu opened his mouth, then closed it, at a loss for words. "I…." he hesitated.

"Do not forget that you can aid others in ways other than fighting," Tristan continued. "As knights, we were meant to serve as beacons of hope to the commoners. We would fight if need be, but our mere presence inspired them to greater heights, and we were able to do anything to make their lives better, including merely helping them rebuild after a tragedy or aiding them with their daily struggles. Is that not also the case with Kamen Riders?"

Susumu reluctantly smiled behind his helmet. "…Yeah. Thanks, Tristan. I'd almost forgot about that part," he said sheepishly.

"Excellent. Then assist me in finding that book," he said with a note of finality. "If we had that as a reference to-"

There came the soft sound of something touching metal, and both Riders abruptly swung around. Sitting on top of the anvil was a weathered book bound in leather with yellowed parchment pages. Tristan and Susumu traded wary glances, both looking around.

"That was not there before, was it?" Tristan asked skeptically.

"There's no way we both overlooked the anvil," Susumu confirmed. "I don't think we're alone down here."

"We should remain on guard," Tristan said cautiously.

"Maybe, but… if something was going to attack us, it would have done so. And I don't think it'd have left us that book," Susumu shrugged. "I'd say we're safe for now."

Tristan's posture indicated that he was unconvinced, but he slowly straightened up as the pair walked over to the book, Tristan prying it open while Susumu looked over his shoulder.

As soon as his eyes fell on the page, Susumu felt himself go cross-eyed. Even though the book was written in a language he couldn't speak anyways, the handwriting was atrocious, a sloppy mess of squiggly lines and varied font sizes. He turned and gave Tristan a nonplussed look.

"There's no way you can read that," he said shortly.

"This is indeed my father's book," Tristan chuckled, flipping through the pages. "As befits a barely-literate peasant, his writing is difficult to decipher. Still, I can understand it."

"Does it have instructions on how to use the forge?" Susumu asked, stepping away from him and walking across the gravel-covered floor.

"Indeed. It is not as though he expected others to have the skill to properly use it anyways," Tristan replied. "I imagine that only he, Lord Quintus… and possibly my brother would have possessed the knowledge required to draw out its full potential."

"What about you?" Susumu asked hesitantly.

"I… do not possess that skill," he admitted, before glancing over at Susumu. "However, I agree with the page that you might. You have very deft hands, after all, and a sense for metal. You may prove to be an adept smith."

"I'm flattered. So what're we making?" Susumu asked.

"I am searching for how to unmake objects that he has created," Tristan frowned, flipping quickly through the pages. "But his notes do not follow logical progression. He simply wrote whenever he made a new discovery, and…." Tristan suddenly trailed off, going quiet as he paused on one of the pages.

"What is it?" Susumu asked.

"I believe that I have found what our adversaries were searching for," Tristan said quietly. "It appears that shortly before the fall of Almencia, my father created a metal that surpasses even Azuron. He named it Aurion, a golden metal that he described as being… almost alive."

"What do you mean?" Susumu asked cautiously.

"It seems that he imbued Aurion with the same alchemical properties that Lord Quintus used in the creation of the Seraphs," Tristan explained. "To that end, he invented a metal that, with a bit of prodding, could repair itself, protect itself more effectively than Azuron, and even unmake other metals. It is, in essence, a Philosopher's Metal, if you will."

Susumu stared at him silently for a moment. "That's impossible," he said bluntly.

"And yet it seems that he was successful in creating it," Tristan replied simply. "However, he does not detail the process here. He mentions only that Lord Quintus succeeded in producing the metal, and that he merely devised a way to shape it. Through it, he was able to craft the Crown of Almencia, though for what purpose, I know not. Perhaps it was merely an ornamental crown for King Domitius, but I find that unlikely."

"Interesting. So… what do we do with this knowledge?" Susumu asked.

"Were we to find some Aurion, we may be able to smelt something of our own with it. It may be the key to defeating a living machine like the Living Armor Diemon that the page is currently fighting," Tristan said. He then sighed. "However… my father does not possess any. He makes it very clear that the Aurion he received was provided by the Marks family as needed by King Domitius."

"That'd explain where the Black Seraph got it from, at least," Susumu muttered. "If the Marks family kept it to themselves for ages, it's possible that the Black Seraph ensured he was buried with some so that he could reforge the crown."

"Perhaps Lady Marks herself possesses some. We could ask her," Tristan suggested.

"We don't know where she is, and we're short on time," Susumu pointed out.

"Or, perhaps, I may know of another source," Tristan added, straightening up suddenly. "Lord Quintus' vault! I recall that it was made of a golden metal that repelled our assault! If we could travel to his manor and retrieve part of it…!"

"Do you know how to get to the manor from here?" Susumu asked.

"I… confess that I do not," Tristan admitted, his shoulders slumping again. "But I know of no other source…."

Susumu frowned under his helmet, starting to pace along the gravel again. As he walked, he caught sight of something glinting against the rocks. His frown deepened as he knelt down and poked through the rocks, and when he pulled his hand back, he was holding a splinter of golden metal. His eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across his lips.

"Actually… we might have some here," he announced, glancing over at Tristan. "Start digging through the gravel. I think some splinters of Aurion might have chipped off when the Irise was forging the crown! We might be able to use that!"

Tristan nodded quickly, and the pair spent the next several moments poking through the rocks, searching for as much gold dust as they could. When they finished their search, they had enough gold to make a small pile in the palm of Susumu's hand.

"There is hardly any here," Tristan commented, his tone disappointed.

"I was thinking about that, and I may have an idea, based on what you've told me about the nature of Lord Quintus' alchemy," Susumu replied. "Tell me how to smelt this stuff. Even this little bit might be enough to do something with."

"Do tell," Tristan said as he began to heat up the flames. As Susumu explained his plan, Tristan nodded slowly.

"I see. That… may indeed be feasible, given the nature of Aurion. However, the only one who would be able to carry out this plan, if even possible, is the page," Tristan said.

"I'm willing to take that chance," Susumu replied, grabbing one of the hammers off the forge and testing its weight.

"Oh? Are you willing to put your faith in your junior now, then?" Tristan asked, his voice slightly teasing.

"As you said, there are ways to help other than fighting, and this is what I can do for him now," Susumu said firmly. Then he looked up thoughtfully, grinning behind his helmet. "Besides, he's the one who demanded we do 'something for him,' after all. If he's going to give us something that vague to work with, it's only fair that our solution is just as much of a long shot."

"Then let us hope he can live up to the steep expectations his senpai has thrust upon him. I shall control the fire. You smith," Tristan replied, pulling on the lever to operate the bellows as the brilliant blue fire blazed to life once again.

* * *

J.J. swayed out of the way as the Irise's hammer slammed down towards him, narrowly missing him. The impact left deep cracks in the asphalt as J.J. dove in, delivering two quick slashes with his daggers, neither of which connected with the D-former lodged in the Diemon's chest. Clicking his tongue, he jumped back before the machine's claw could grab him again, taking a moment to catch his breath.

The speed of his Thief Class had let him dance circles around the Irise for a few minutes, but he was getting tired. It was like fighting a large version of the Chips – he was landing hits on the Irise, but it didn't seem to matter, since any damage he did was quickly repaired. Even now, he watched the silver, blood-like mercury close over the tears he had opened in the machine's thorax, sealing them shut as the metal hardened, reinforcing itself for better protection.

"Just… need… one good hit," he panted as the Irise stood over him.

"Irrelevant. I have assessed your capabilities. Even a direct strike to my jewel will not be sufficient to destroy it," the Irise said smugly.

J.J. scowled, then both combatants paused as a commotion caught their attention. Agnar came charging around the corner, trailed by a small army of Shards and Chips still fighting furiously with each other, the former trying to keep the latter away from their master. In the chaos, buildings were suffering severe damage, as if a tornado was ripping through the street. J.J. swore under his breath, putting his hand on his black D-former and giving it a spin.

 **"Reroll! Class: Mage!"** his Driver shouted, and as chimes played, he was covered in an onyx crystal that spun around him rapidly as his outfit shifted to a softer black tunic. When the change finished, he leapt into the air, gripping his staff tightly and pointing it at the swarm of enemies. He gave his D-former another spin, and as his belt shouted, **"Critical!"** into the air, he calmed his thoughts, letting a wave of ice, snow, and freezing water wash over the Shards and Chips. In moments, the small army was buried under a glacier of ice, at which point J.J. gave his D-former another spin. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted again, and this time he let his anger simmer, before letting out a short cry. Fireballs erupted from the end of his staff, slamming into the gaggle of Shards and Chips and exploding on impact, though thankfully the fire didn't spread to the nearby buildings. In seconds, the area was littered with the rocky remains of Shards and the smoldering processors and limp bodies of Chips.

Despite the power behind his spells, though, it seemed as though he had only destroyed those Shards and Chips that had already been damaged fighting each other. As the dust cleared, the remaining Chips and Shards that had been in good shape picked themselves up and resumed brawling. In all, it seemed that he had only reduced their numbers by about a third. Fortunately, the remaining members of the armies were also weakened, and as they continued to fight, they began falling apart far more quickly, while doing less damage to the city around them. Even though J.J. hadn't wiped out two armies in just two attacks, he had done enough to mitigate most of their collateral damage.

J.J. grinned to himself as he landed on the street, before suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. He dropped to one knee, clutching his staff as his vision swam. While he'd been successful in stopping that army, the blowback from using two Criticals in such quick succession hit him all at once. He could hear Agnar scoff at him from across the street.

"An impressive display of power, but foolish to waste so much energy at once, peasant," Agnar sneered. "Stay on your knees where you belong while I dispatch this adversary and retrieve the crystal."

"I'm not telling you again. I will not give you this jewel," the Irise replied simply.

"You agreed to serve our lord. Therefore, your life is his to do with as he pleases," Agnar repeated. "As a mere mechanical servant, I would expect you to understand that."

"I am _alive_!" the Irise shouted, displaying anger that J.J. wouldn't have expected, given its robotic form. "I'm not going to surrender this precious gift just because I was told to!"

"Truly? If so, then you should learn a basic truth of life," Agnar said menacingly, putting his hand on his own D-former. "Nothing that lives does so without struggle. If you wish to live, fight. Let us bear witness to your conviction to survive, if you truly possess it."

Agnar gave his D-former a spin, and a harsh, deep voice growled into the air, **"Critical!"** A vermillion D-former spun around Agnar briefly before coalescing around his body, outlining him in a shimmering orange haze that began to flicker and dance, as though his body had caught on fire. A low roar erupted from his throat, and he slowly stalked towards the Irise as it watched him curiously. J.J. suddenly remembered what Agnar's Critical was and managed to struggle to his feet in time to jump into the air, landing softly on a building above the fight before collapsing to his knees again. Even that short jump had been difficult, given how exhausted he was. However, at least up here, he was relatively safe from Agnar's fury.

Agnar's low growl turned into a roar as he charged at the machine, the Irise's claw glowing for a moment as it reinforced its hand to try and clutch the blade like it had in the caverns. However, as soon as Agnar swung the sword down, it effortlessly tore through the metallic claw trying to catch it, splitting it in half to the elbow. Agnar pulled his sword back and slashed again diagonally, and then again horizontally, both blows opening large gashes in the Irise's torso. Each slash was faster than the last as Agnar got into a rhythm. He rained blows down on the helpless machine, which tried to backpedal away from the furious onslaught, but Agnar kept pushing in, forcing it to yield step after step. For forty-five seconds, he tore into the Irise, and J.J. lost count of how many times he struck the machine. When he finished, however, and he stood, panting, with his sword's tip pressed to the ground. The Irise, meanwhile, stood stock-still, seemingly lifeless.

"Now… your… jewel… should be… nothing more… than…!" Agnar panted. However, the Irise slowly straightened up, and from his angle atop the building, J.J.'s mouth fell open in horror. The Irise didn't seem to have more than superficial scratches on it.

"H-how?" Agnar sputtered.

"Your blade," the Irise replied simply. Agnar slowly raised his blade, his eyes widening. The sword was the deep grey color of lead, and with every blow he struck, the soft metal had been warped further into a twisted lump of scrap metal. The Irise let out a metallic laugh and suddenly swung its hammer across Agnar's chest. Agnar, too exhausted to defend himself, was sent flying and crashed unceremoniously into a wall, where he fell limp.

"Powerful though you may be, I can withstand any blow you deliver with that useless weapon," the Irise boasted as it closed in on Agnar, its body already starting to heal itself. "And unlike you, I never tire. I don't know why I should fear losing my life. I am immortal!"

J.J. swore under his breath and jumped down from the building, landing in front of Agnar. Before the Irise could react, he shouted once, letting off a fireball, which slammed into the machine's chest. The Irise staggered backwards a couple steps, but otherwise was unharmed, which didn't surprise J.J. He didn't expect fire to be particularly effective against something made out of metal anyways.

"I'm surprised you can still stand," the Irise commented, bringing its arm up and slamming it down towards J.J., who brought his staff up to block the attack. However, the sheer power behind the blow sent him sprawling across the ground. He grunted under his breath as he pulled his diary from his belt, flipping it open to his own stats page as he reverted to Adventurer Class. To his chagrin, he was down to less than a third of his health. The Irise, meanwhile, had its health bar steadily climbing again. Worse, as he tried to climb to his feet, he heard skittering, and glanced around him to see several Chips hurrying towards them, forming a circle around J.J. and the Irise.

"Stand down," the Irise said, its voice suddenly pleading. "I merely wish to leave. I'm willing to spare you, but you won't stop me from reviving the other Pupils that I can find. I have the right to live, and so do they. Just let me go."

J.J. groaned as he slowly pulled himself to his feet, barely able to stand at this point from exhaustion, but he held his sword out in front of him anyways, taking as much of a fencing stance as he could with his limited energy. The Irise paused, appraising him curiously.

"Why?" it asked him softly. "If you continue like this, you're going to die, you know."

"If I don't continue like this, other people are going to die," J.J. replied simply, still panting. "That's something I'm not going to allow."

"You would throw away your one precious life for others?" the Irise asked, stunned.

"I suppose it's something that you wouldn't understand," J.J. chuckled dryly. "But there are some things worth putting your life on the line for."

"Well said, Page!" a voice shouted from behind him. Both J.J. and the Irise glanced around, trying to find the source of the announcement. A moment later, two of the Chips behind him exploded, while a third fell to the ground, a golden bolt of energy appearing in the center of its face. Through the smoke, Tristan and Susumu walked towards him, Susumu clutching something in his right hand as he limped forward while Tristan slowly lowered his crossbow.

"How many more times must I fight you?!" the Irise cried, exasperated. "It doesn't matter how many of you there are, I'm going to win eventually!"

"Not anymore. Right now, we only need one person to take you down," Susumu replied. "And he's standing right in front of you. J.J., catch!" he added, throwing something at him.

J.J. saw a glint of gold and flicked his hand out, catching something out of the air. As he opened his hand, his eyes widened as he saw a golden D-former resting in his gloved palm. He looked up again to see Susumu nodding at him.

"I had a little discussion with Tristan," he explained. "We figured that if that metal we saw the Irise using can conduct alchemy, maybe you can use it too, since your diary converts alchemical objects for its own use. We're not positive about it, but it's worth a shot."

J.J. tilted his head, glancing down at the diary still in his hand. He clicked his sword down to its quill form and put the D-former on one of the pages. "What do you think?" he asked his pen softly.

His quill seemed to hesitate, before slowly scribbling across the page. _It will be difficult, but this metal is indeed compatible. However, because it does not have an accompanying stat page like a typical D-former, its use will be limited. I can create a temporary stat page, but I can only integrate it into the system for a few minutes. That said, I also believe I can manipulate it to perfectly adapt to this situation. Would you like me to?_

"Seems like the best chance we have. Let's do it," J.J. replied. The quill nodded and quickly began scribbling on a blank page to hurriedly create a makeshift stat page. As it did, a new slot opened up just above his amber D-former on the front cover. J.J. grinned to himself behind his mask, looking up at the Irise, which continued to stare at them quietly.

"You appear to have an untested piece of technology," it commented as its whirling red eye fell on the golden D-former lodged in J.J.'s book. "You would wager your survival on something you do not know or understand? That is not merely illogical, it is suicidal."

"Yeah, but… you claim to be alive, right? If so, you should understand that there are times when you have to take a gamble. I'm willing to do that to put an end to the threat you pose," J.J. replied, looking down at his diary again. As his pen finished scribbling, he grinned broadly at the page it had written for him. Tristan and Susumu looked over his shoulder as well, and Susumu let out a low whistle.

"That's going to be interesting. All we can do now is hope it works," he said.

"Focus your efforts upon the Diemon, page," Tristan nodded. "I shall prevent the Chips from interfering with your fight. Susumu… assist him. You know more about the Irises than any of us."

"Right. Thanks guys," J.J. said, slotting his diary back into his Driver. He took a long, slow breath to steady his nerves while Susumu stepped up to stand beside him and Tristan stood behind the pair, his back to them. J.J. then put his gloved hand on the golden D-former and gave it a quick spin.

 **"Reroll! Special Class: Alchemist!"** his D-former shouted into the air, and a gold holographic crystal surrounded him as the sound of bubbles popping filled the air. The die spun around him rapidly, changing his suit, and once the spinning stopped, J.J. took a moment to look down at himself, unable to keep from grinning to himself at his altered appearance.

He was wearing a long yellow robe, stitched closed along the left side of his torso. The collar of the outfit flared upward, giving him a high neckline, while the robe fell to his knees. Over the robe was his Driver, the golden D-former glinting just above his main amber D-former. His hands were covered by long brown gloves that slipped over his sleeves and came almost to his elbow. His thighs and knees were protected by his black undersuit alone, but high yellow boots with flared cuffs protected his calves and feet. A bandolier was strapped across his chest, holding four glass bottles filled with red, white, black, and yellow liquids. His helmet was likewise colored yellow, with bottle-shaped indentations over his ears. The trapezoidal eye-plates had turned the color of topaz, giving him an almost acidic appearance.

Susumu glanced over at him, nodding at his new outfit. "That's different," he commented, pulling a new gear out of his belt. "I read the description of what it can do, too. You mix. I'll do what I can to buy you time."

"Gotcha," J.J. replied, unable to keep from grinning. Susumu attached the gear to his bracer, and his Driver shouted, **"Shifting gears! Smash 'em! Wrecker!"** The bracer quickly reconfigured itself as Susumu charged in, swinging the ball around before the Irise had time to react. It collided heavily with the Irise's side, sending it careening into a wall, while J.J. looked down at his chest.

"Okay, so I _can_ use alchemy now, but that doesn't mean I know _how_ to use it," he muttered. "Be really useful if I had a guide. First thing I need is something to halt transmutation," he commented to himself. Almost as if in response, the white and yellow bottles suddenly began glowing. J.J. blinked, pulling the bottles off his bandolier and holding them up to the light. They continued glowing as J.J. hesitantly poured the contents of the beakers together and swirled them. The mixture turned pale yellow just as the Irise grabbed Susumu's wrecking ball again by the chain and began transforming the metal into what J.J. suspected was aluminum or tin.

J.J. dashed over to Susumu, flinging the contents of the bottle on the Irise's claw and Susumu's arm. Both the Diemon and Susumu stopped what they were doing to turn to stare at him while he stood there with a blank expression. The Irise chuckled menacingly.

"I don't know what you were trying to do, but it doesn't seem to have had any effect," the machine commented, turning its attention back to Susumu's chain. As its claw clamped over it, however, the golden light that had signified the transmutation of metal didn't appear. The Irise stared at the chain, dumbfounded. Only two small links had turned bright silver; the rest remained the same steel grey.

Taking advantage of the pause, Susumu cocked his left arm back and slammed it into the Irise's body, knocking it backwards a few steps. He then nodded to J.J.

"Well, that's helpful," he said, holding his chain out. "But this will still break if I try to swing it. Can you fix this?"

Before J.J. could answer, his yellow and black vials began glowing. J.J. quickly mixed the contents and poured them over Susumu's wrecking ball. The thin, silvery metal coating the chain rolled off like paint being washed away, and Susumu let out a soft chuckle, inspecting his tool for a moment.

"That's perfect," he said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. "What else can you do?"

"I'm not sure. But it takes me a couple seconds to mix these solutions," J.J. replied. "Can you cover me while I play around a bit?"

"Now that I don't have to worry about that thing breaking my tools? Piece of cake," Susumu replied. He put a battery in his left bracer and pressed another button.

 **"Refuel! Chill out! Coolant!"** his Driver shouted, and a light blue bottle attached itself to a nozzle in his left bracer. Susumu charged at the Irise again as it recovered its footing, spraying its red eye with the freezing mixture. The Irise shouted mechanically as it was temporarily blinded, and Susumu took advantage of its handicapped state to deliver two hard punches to its midsection, staggering it even more.

J.J., meanwhile, muttered to himself, "I think the best thing to use right now would be some sort of corrosive material, like an acid…." In response, the red and white bottles on his chest began glowing. J.J. quickly poured the contents of the bottles together, pausing as he noticed he was out of white solution. However, there was a glint of gold, and a new bottle of white liquid appeared in his bandolier. J.J. grinned, and as Susumu pummeled the Irise with punches, he darted around to the other side, throwing the glass bottle. It shattered, spraying the machine with a sizzling pink solution that began eating away at its body. The Irise let out a roar of pain as its hammer began withering away. Susumu took advantage of the monster's reeling to spray its left hand, freezing the claw in place so that both of its limbs were rendered useless.

"You…!" the Irise screamed, kicking at J.J. and Susumu. Both Riders jumped back as J.J. grinned over at Susumu.

"Now what I think we need is an explosion." Susumu nodded once as the red and black vials on J.J.'s chest began glowing. He pulled the bottles from his chest and mixed them together quickly. Almost instantly, it began sizzling and shaking in his hand. At the same time, Susumu clipped another bottle into his left bracer. **"Refuel! Clear the area! Detonation!"** his Driver shouted. A bright orange battery clipped itself to the nozzle of Susumu's left arm, which expanded to a two-inch opening, and he nodded at J.J. as he pressed the button. J.J. threw his vial at the same time an orange capsule shot from the tube in Susumu's arm. The capsule hit the Irise first, followed shortly by J.J.'s bottle, and the Riders turned and shielded their eyes as the Irise was engulfed in a fiery explosion. As the smoke cleared, both Riders slowly lowered their hands.

"Did that get it?" J.J. asked. Susumu turned and lowered his head slightly, glaring at him.

"You're a writer, J.J. You should know never to jinx it like that," he sighed. J.J. grimaced as heavy footsteps began resounding off the walls. Both Riders flinched as the Irise stalked towards it, its body a reduced to a horrifying mass of mercurial metal dripping from its shattered frame. The red eye in the center suddenly began glowing brightly, and before either J.J. or Susumu had time to react, an energy blast struck the ground near them, sending them both flying. J.J. groaned as he smacked heavily into a pile of debris, momentarily dazed. For all its usefulness, the Alchemist Class seemed even more frail than his Mage Class. He couldn't take another hit like that.

Susumu had pulled himself up first and hurried over to J.J., hauling him to his feet. J.J. shook his head rapidly, grunting. Susumu sighed, folding his arms at the Irise.

"This'll get us nowhere if we can't get that D-former off of it," Susumu commented. "But it's hurting. Do you think it's weak enough for a Critical of yours to work?"

"I don't know. But I'm on my last legs here, regardless." He glanced down at his golden D-former, which had already shrunk in size. "And this form doesn't have much time left either. I suppose it's either now or never."

Susumu nodded. "I'll distract it," he said, turning and running towards the Irise again. The machine's left arm had already healed, and as Susumu got near, it suddenly reached out with its claw-like hand, grabbing his arm. Susumu, however, grabbed the Irise's arm in return, holding it in place. The Irise hesitated, looking at him in surprise.

"What are you…?" it asked softly.

"J.J.! Now!" Susumu shouted.

J.J. nodded once, giving the golden D-former a quick spin. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and a golden crystal briefly surrounded J.J., spinning for a moment, before breaking into four smaller crystals that dissolved into the bottles on his chest, which began gleaming. J.J. grabbed the bottles and quickly mixed the contents together in the order of red, black, white, and then yellow. The contents swirled together before turning into a shining, golden liquid. With a yell, J.J. threw the bottle at the trapped Irise, which could only watch as the bottle sailed through the air and impacted in the dead center of its chest.

A bright yellow flash momentarily blinded J.J., and he threw his hand up to protect his eyes. As he lowered them, he saw the Irise seized up in pain, screaming, as the steel-colored D-former lodged in its chest melted out of it, leaving a gaping hole. The screams of the Irise grew steadily more metallic as the die clattered across the ground, along with its stat page. Moments later, the Irise looked down at itself, ignoring Susumu as he wrenched himself free of its grasp.

"IMPOSSIBLE! RESET TO INITIAL PARAMETERS! LIFE STATE HAS BEEN DELETED! KAMEN… RIDERS…!" the Irise shrieked, its metallic voice echoing off the street. J.J. sighed with relief, nearly collapsing, as the golden D-former dissolved into glittering dust. J.J. reverted to his Adventurer Class, the hole in his diary closing up again, as Susumu hurried over and grabbed him under the arm, holding him up.

"Good work," he said quickly, before scowling at the machine. "But we're not done yet. We've stopped the Diemon, but we still have an Irise to deal with."

"I don't know… how much more… I have left in me," J.J. panted, looking up at Susumu wearily.

Susumu nodded once, helping J.J. up. "Well… it should be weak. What say we finish it off here and now? Together."

J.J. paused, straightening himself up. "You sure you can…?"

"Don't worry. I won't fail this time," Susumu assured him, his voice firm. "I'll give you an opening. Just be ready."

J.J. swallowed, nodding and struggling to his feet as he put his hand on his D-former again. "Alright. Then let's finish this."

The Irise screeched, the sound echoing like the feedback of a megaphone, and charged towards them as Susumu knelt down, pressing a button on his ankle. A jet of white steam hissed from vents in his boots, and J.J. heard something lock into place as Susumu took a stance like a track runner. Raising his head, he said softly, "Pneumatic Kick… Engage."

A spring in Susumu's leg kicked off, and Susumu shot forward like he had been launched from a catapult. Before the Irise could react, he did a half-turn in midair, yelling as he extended his right leg forward. He slammed into the Irise and tore through its body all at once, metallic parts flying everywhere, as the Pupil on top of its head was detached and sent hurtling through the air, arcing towards J.J.

J.J. immediately gave his D-former a spin, and a shout of **"Critical!"** erupted from his Driver. J.J. jumped into the air as he was surrounded by an amber die, which spun around him as he rotated in the air to gather more momentum. The amber die coalesced around his right leg, and when he was close enough, J.J. let out a short shout of his own, swinging his leg around in a flying roundhouse kick. The Pupil was sent careening through the air as the amber energy from his kick spiderwebbed across its body. When it impacted with the ground, its body exploded, finally destroying the Pupil for good.

J.J. grunted as he landed heavily beside Susumu, watching as the Chips that had been boxing Tristan into a corner suddenly seized up and went limp. Tristan lowered his shield, nodding at the pair of Riders as they stood amidst the falling bits of machinery. Susumu glanced at J.J. and flashed him a thumbs-up sign, which J.J. chuckled and nodded wearily to. Their momentary elation was broken, however, by the sound of slow clapping coming from near the building above them.

J.J. and Susumu both looked up, startled, at the figure hovering over them. His six black wings were outstretched as his sable robes billowed in the wind and his gilded mask glinted in the sunlight. The Black Seraph's pale hands clapped together, applauding the spectacle he'd witnessed.

"Outstanding," the Seraph praised them as he gazed down at them from his perch. "I had worried that I might have a new threat in this city when our mechanical friend decided to go rogue, but I must thank you for dispatching it before it became a serious problem. You have my gratitude."

"Gratitude?!" J.J. shouted in disbelief.

"Indeed. I care deeply for the lives of everyone in this city, after all," the Black Seraph replied in a soothing voice. "I would rather the citizens not die unnecessarily."

"Yeah, you've got a great way of showing that you care!" J.J. yelled. Anger began overriding his fatigue, and he gripped his sword tightly. "Tell that to everyone you've killed with your damned jewels! Go to the cemetery and explain that you don't want to hurt anyone!"

"I said die unnecessarily. Some sacrifices must unfortunately be made," the Black Seraph sighed. "But thankfully, nothing was sacrificed this time," he added. Agnar appeared beside him, handing over the Irise's steel D-former. J.J. swore under his breath, realizing that he hadn't picked it up when he'd had the chance.

"Nothing was sacrificed?!" Susumu repeated, his own voice shaking in anger. "That Irise would beg to differ! I hate those things, but even I feel sorry for it, especially if you actually did give it life!" he shouted.

"Ah, but it lived its short life enjoying what it was given. Is that not the definition of a life well spent?" the Seraph replied blithely. Susumu stared at him in shock, unable to reply, just making a small noise of rage in the back of his throat. "Enough of this, however. As thanks for your service, I shall not engage you further, despite your continued aggression towards me. Enjoy your respite." He then paused, pinning J.J. with a look. "Though I must admit… your performance was far beyond my expectations. I shall have to keep a closer eye on you in the future… Kamen Rider Page." He glanced over at Tristan, nodding to him as well. "A pleasure to see you as well, Sir Tristan. Another time."

Before anyone could move, he turned and floated out of sight. J.J. moved to go after him, but with the threat gone, his adrenaline stopped pumping through his veins and he nearly collapsed. Susumu quickly grabbed him as he stumbled forward.

"Much as it pains me to admit, he's right. We need a rest," Susumu said.

"Fine," J.J. muttered as Tristan hurried towards them. "But I'm not sleeping in the same room as you again."

"…Yeah, that's fair," Susumu laughed as he slung J.J.'s arm over his shoulder Tristan took his other arm, the two leading him down the road.

"I still can't believe there was another Kamen Rider under our noses this entire time," Gwen said, scowling over her lemonade as she sat beside J.J. "You really pulled the wool over our eyes, Susumu."

"I wasn't exactly trying to fool you. But as J.J. and Tristan could tell you, being a Kamen Rider isn't something you really want to advertise." Both J.J. and Tristan nodded solemnly in agreement as the others in the group laughed. The tavern was semi-closed as Gary hosted a party for those that were in on the Kamen Riders' secrets – Ryan, Abby, Agni, and Gwen had come to celebrate the victory over the Irises with Susumu, J.J., and Tristan. Ryan and Abby went back to arguing with each other about something at school near the end of the table, while Agni and Gary were nursing ales, ignoring the younger members of the group as they spoke with each other about their respective businesses.

"Yeah, but I'm glad it's out in the open now," J.J. sighed, looking into his glass of soda. "And it's great that we have another ally. Now that there's three of us fighting-"

"Ah… you might want to hold off on finishing that thought, J.J.," Susumu said, grinning sheepishly. "I'm not going to be fighting with you again anytime soon."

J.J. and Tristan turned to look at him, the former scowling slightly. "What?" J.J. asked, annoyed.

"I told you that my Driver was jury-rigged and likely would only last a few transformations. One of the processors burned out, and I don't have the parts I need to replace it here," Susumu explained.

"What?" J.J. repeated. "Come on, you're a genius mechanic. I'm sure you could gather what you need in town."

"Nope. The only place I know of where I could easily get the pieces I need is where I grew up. I'll have to head there again at some point anyways, since there's something that I want to look into. But I'm afraid that was the last time I'll be able to transform for a while," Susumu replied. When J.J. sighed in frustration, he added, "Don't worry, though. I'll still help you guys out however I can. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, and I can still offer advice, training, and mechanical expertise if you want it."

"Yeah, but… it's not the same as having another person watching your back," J.J. muttered.

Susumu gave J.J. a sidelong look before slapping his shoulder encouragingly. "Come on. You and Tristan have done great thus far with just the two of you. I'm sure you can handle it. After all, you're Kamen Riders too."

"Maybe. Though I still don't feel comfortable saying that I'm one quite yet," J.J. replied modestly.

"That's fair," Susumu shrugged. "But in my opinion? You're definitely worthy of the title of Kamen Rider, J.J.," he said, his smile making J.J. flush from the praise.

"Stop trying to flatter me," J.J. muttered, and Gwen giggled beside him while Tristan looked on from over his glass of water.

"I'm just telling the truth," Susumu shrugged. His expression then turned grim, and concern started to settle over J.J. from how serious he was looking. "And one other piece of advice, from a veteran Rider. The Black Seraph said he was starting to take an interest in you. That's never a good sign. Don't be surprised if things get a lot harder from here on out."

J.J. and Tristan glanced at each other, exchanging worried looks while Susumu sipped at his coffee, still eyeing them seriously. "Well… that's cheery. But thanks for the advice," J.J. said, unable to even laugh his warning off. Tristan looked thoughtful while J.J. shook his head, pushing his own concerns aside. "Anyways, let's not worry about that now!" he announced to the rest of the table, which turned their attention to them. "Instead, let's get this game started, shall we?"

"Right… you're gonna have to explain the rules again," Susumu said, looking uneasy as he glanced at the character sheet J.J. had handed him. "I'm not sure what this… armor class thing is? Do I roll for that, or…?"

"Relax. Just listen to the story, chime in when you have an idea, and roll the dice that I tell you to roll. You've got this," J.J. said with a grin.

"I… suppose," Susumu said nervously. He continued to scowl at the sheet, however, his eyes narrowing. "You seriously made me a dwarf?"

"I thought it'd suit you," J.J. grinned maliciously.

"Is this payback for me teasing you about Gwen?" Susumu asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that," J.J. shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the glare Susumu was sending his way. "Anyways, let's get started. Your search has taken you to the remote dwarven kingdoms, where the last word of the princess' kidnappers indicated that she might be hidden deep beneath the earth. As you approach the mountain, a pair of dwarven guards stop you and demand to know what business your party has in the mines…."


	35. Session 32

**Session 32**

J.J. swayed out of the way as a razor-sharp set of claws lashed out at him, the monster he was facing letting out a feral growl. Before it could withdraw its paw, J.J. slashed at it with his short sword, opening a gash along its arm, but not severing it. The Diemon let out a cry of pain as J.J. slipped to the side, providing an open shooting lane for Trsitan, who was staring down the length of his crossbow, targeting it. Two golden bolts of energy erupted from the end of the bow, streaking towards the Diemon, but before the projectiles could hit, the Diemon vanished, reappearing fifteen feet to its left a moment later, growling fiercely as it glared at the two Riders.

The monster in question was canid in appearance, with tan fur and short ears. Long claws extended from its furry paws, and two oversized fangs protruded out over its lower jaw, giving it a saber-toothed appearance. At first, J.J. had been tempted to classify the monster as a werewolf, despite its tan fur, but when it had displayed an unexpected ability, he immediately realized the identity of the monster they were dealing with.

"Let me guess," J.J. said dryly, addressing the blink dog Diemon. "Since we caught you with a handful of jewelry, you were trying to use your teleportation abilities to break into vaults without anyone catching you, is that about right? That was the Black Seraph offered you?"

"So what if it was?" the Diemon replied in a low growl, glancing furtively from side to side, trying to figure out an avenue of escape. "I'm not hurting anyone! And I only want one necklace in particular!"

"Yeah, but you're still stealing. And there are few things I hate more than people who try to take what they haven't earned," J.J. sighed, giving his sword a little twirl. "I'm going to ask you nicely, once. Give up that jewel the Seraph gave you so-"

Before he could finish the sentence, the creature disappeared again, reappearing a few feet away. Tristan immediately fired a pair of crossbow bolts after it, but its change of position was so sudden that the attack went wide. The Diemon went scampering down an alleyway as J.J. and Tristan quickly climbed on their bikes to pursue it, J.J. letting out a sigh of annoyance.

"It is surprising that our quarry is a simple thief," Tristan commented over the roar of his engine as the two Riders took off after it.

"Yeah, but the fact that it's a blink dog makes it that much more annoying," J.J. called back, leaning into a turn as they skidded around the corner of the alleyway and straightened out, racing after the Diemon, which was fleeing from them on all fours in a bestial fashion. "It's not very strong, but it's hard to hit, and it's got good senses. That's probably the other reason why the Black Seraph made it a blink dog. I'd be willing to bet they can smell and hear like a bloodhound. Makes it both an excellent tracker and excellent at evasion, since it'll be able to sense us coming if we let it get away. We can't afford to lose sight of it here."

As they started closing in on the dog, it suddenly blinked out of view again. J.J. and Tristan immediately whipped their heads around, seeing that it had teleported behind them and was running the other way. Both Riders brought their bikes to a skidding halt and revved their engines almost simultaneously, shooting off after it again a few seconds later. Fortunately, J.J. mused, it looked as though its teleportation had a limited range and a cooldown time, so it couldn't simply teleport as far as it wanted at will. That would have made it nearly impossible to catch.

J.J. glanced over at Tristan, who had his crossbow balanced on one handlebar as he kept his other hand on the steering. He fired off two shaky golden bolts, one of which missed entirely while the other collided with the ground just before the Diemon's foreleg. The Diemon let out a shriek of terror and tore off to the right, heading back towards the main road. J.J. motioned for Tristan to follow the dog while he kept going straight, trying to outpace the dog around the corner. Once he reached the edge of the block, he shifted his weight, turning to the right and revving the engine again to try and cut off the Diemon.

As he sped around the corner, he saw the Diemon scampering away from the sound of Tristan's engine, and J.J. quickly held his hand out, his quill flying into his hand. He clicked it out into its sword form against his thigh, holding it tightly in his right hand as he turned towards the fleeing dog. The Diemon turned just in time to see J.J. slash at him, his blade slicing deep into the monster, and his momentum sending it flying. The Diemon let out a pained yowl as it was knocked into the central square of the shopping center where they had first encountered the monster.

Unfortunately for them, most people hadn't evacuated yet, but when they saw the Diemon, they immediately began screaming and running away from it. J.J. sped towards the Diemon before it could blink into the crowd, but as he neared the fallen Diemon, the dog disappeared again. J.J. swore under his breath, sliding his hand down to his Driver and giving the red and blue dice a quick spin as he dismounted.

 **"Reroll! Multiclass: Ranger!"** his Driver shouted, and a blue and red die coalesced around him briefly, before becoming an emerald crystal that spun around him as his leather armor changed form. A long green cloak fluttered out behind him as the spinning stopped, and his sword had transmuted into a wooden bow, which he gripped tightly as he leaped into the air, landing lightly on top of a lamppost so that he could see the entire plaza.

Because his Ranger Class allowed him to track enemies that were hiding, he was able to quickly pinpoint the dog hiding behind a trash can, trying to avoid detection. J.J. saw Tristan run onto the scene, and as the blue knight looked up at him, J.J. silently jerked his head towards the dog's hiding place. Tristan nodded, and both Riders raised their bows, firing them at the same time. Tristan's golden bolt struck the Diemon before J.J.'s thorny arrow, and the monster let out another yelp of pain as it jumped out from behind the trash can, its hands up. J.J. sighed to himself, feeling a bit sorry for the monster, as he jumped down from his perch and began walking towards it.

"Please, just stop!" the Diemon whimpered. "I'm just trying to find something that belongs to my family!"

"What, exactly?" J.J. asked. Tristan shot him a look, but J.J. shook his head. He was simply covering his bases. If something went wrong – like if the Diemon escaped from prison after they had been arrested and had their powers taken away – he wanted to know what they were after.

"It was a necklace that belonged to my mother. She sold it to some rich investors to pay off some bills," the Diemon sighed. "But the money's run dry, so-"

"So you figured you'd steal it back and make a profit off it again," J.J. finished his sentence blandly, a nonplussed look under his helmet.

"It was my family's to begin with!" the Diemon growled. "And they didn't pay us nearly what it was worth!"

"I'm sorry you got cheated," J.J. replied, though his voice was rather unsympathetic. "However, when you sold the necklace, it was no longer yours."

"It wasn't a fair trade!" the blink dog snapped, its voice briefly breaking into a loud, yipping bark. "If we'd been paid what we were promised, I would have been fine with-!"

The dog suddenly stopped mid-sentence, looking past them, before vanishing again. J.J. swore under his breath, whipping his head around, another arrow drawn. Tristan, likewise, looked around the area, the two men immediately standing back-to-back to give themselves a complete look of the area. J.J. furtively glanced around, but it was Trsitan who spotted the Diemon first. He nudged J.J. in the back, and J.J. glanced over his shoulder to see Tristan nod to something in front of him. J.J. followed his gaze, his blood suddenly running cold as he heard the dog cackling like a jackal.

In the intervening seconds, the Diemon had grabbed a young man not much older than J.J. and was holding him in a chokehold from behind, using him as a human shield. The man was about six feet tall and of average build, with neatly-combed black hair and piercing blue eyes that were hauntingly familiar. His black business suit had been slightly rumpled in the struggle as he gripped his neck, grunting for air as the Diemon kept him pinned against its chest.

"That was lucky!" the Diemon crowed. "Just the person I was looking for! Tell me where my mother's necklace is!" it demanded.

"Don't… know… who… are you?" the man gurgled as J.J. and Tristan raised their weapons. The blink dog, seeing this, held its claws to the man's throat, growling threateningly.

"Don't you dare. Both of you lower your weapons!" the Diemon ordered them. "I'd rather pump him for information, but trust me when I say that I'd also enjoy killing him. It wouldn't be a major loss, believe me."

J.J. and Tristan traded looks, and both reluctantly lowered their weapons. Tristan nodded to a spot behind the Diemon, and J.J. acknowledged him with a look, moving to slowly creep around, while Tristan did the same. The dog, seeing this, began to back up to keep itself from being flanked.

"You should know who I am," the dog addressed its hostage in a low hiss. "Does the name Montgomery remind you of anything?"

The young man looked bewildered for a moment, and the Diemon's grip around his neck tightened. "Better think faster than that!" the monster barked.

"One… of… my rivals?" the man asked weakly. The dog gripped his neck a bit harder, choking the man, who began to cough loudly.

"No, you spoiled moron!" the Diemon roared. "You cheated my mother out of her jewelry when she couldn't pay her debts! I want her necklace back!"

"Don't… have…!" the man wheezed.

"You'd _better_ still have it!" the Diemon hissed, looking down at the man with a furious expression. "Believe me, I consider that necklace _far_ more valuable than your life!"

The moment that the monster was distracted, J.J. suddenly raised his bow. Before the Diemon could react, he loosed an arrow. While normally he would have been leery about taking such a shot, he trusted his bow's accuracy. Thankfully, the arrow flew directly past the hostage's face, slamming into the Diemon's head. A shower of sparks erupted as the Diemon let out a pained howl, and it released the man, who fell to the ground, loosely rubbing his neck. With a hiss, the Diemon scampered away, shouting, "I'm not done with you!" Another potshot from Tristan's crossbow missed, and the Diemon took off again, disappearing around a corner.

Tristan let out a tsking sound and glanced over at J.J. "I shall pursue our quarry. Tend to the victim, if you would."

"Right," J.J. replied, and Tristan hurried over to his bike to take off on it again. J.J., meanwhile, jogged over to the man, who was rubbing his throat tenderly. He put his hand on the man's shoulder as he coughed, before straightening his tie. "Are you alright?"

"I'll survive," the man replied, clearing his throat before smiling weakly at J.J. "I appreciate the help." He then paused, tilting his head. "You're… that vigilante fellow who's been causing a stir around the city, aren't you?"

"You could call me that, yeah," J.J. replied reluctantly. "If you're alright, though I should really get back to-"

"Hold on a moment," the man interrupted. "I want to thank you for saving my life."

"That's really not necessary," J.J. replied quickly, glancing away to see Tristan speeding away. So long as the man was fine, the paramedics could see to him. With something as elusive as a blink dog, Tristan was going to need his help….

"I insist," the man replied. "Besides, I think it's high time that I was properly introduced to my sister's boyfriend."

J.J. did a double-take, turning to face the man again, who was grinning at him cheekily. "What…?" he asked numbly.

"My sister and I do talk from time to time, and she told me about you," the man explained. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Blake Marks, Gwen's younger brother. I'm sure she's mentioned me. Would you mind removing your suit so that we can speak properly, face to face?"

J.J.'s mouth was agape as he pulled his D-former from his diary, his suit shattering around him in a shower of amber fractals. Blake held his hand out, and J.J. felt his arm rise to take it automatically, even though he was still numb with surprise. "J.J. Wells," he heard himself replying, the rational part of his brain finally breaking through. "A pleasure to meet you. Yes, Gwen's mentioned you quite a few times. "But… wait, she told you that I do this?" he added, starting to feel a bit of anger welling up in him. If Gwen was casually mentioning who he was….

"Not directly, but I was able to piece it together from what she told me," Blake chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching casually, and J.J. felt his burst of anger fading. He would give Gwen the benefit of the doubt, he decided. "Good to finally meet you as well. I wanted to thank you for everything that you're doing around the city. Even though I'm not the mayor like many of my ancestors, I still consider this my family's city, and I'm glad that there's someone keeping a close eye on the wellbeing of its citizens."

"Happy to do it," J.J. replied, his mouth still dry with shock.

"In fact, like I said, I'd like to personally offer you a bit of a thank you, if you're up for it," Blake continued. "Just a little something to show my appreciation."

"That's really not necessary," J.J. replied quickly. "I'm not doing this for fame or rewards. It's just something that needs to be taken care of."

"Humble too. I like that," Blake chuckled. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on erecting a statue in your honor or anything. I'd just like to invite you to dinner."

"…I'm flattered, but I'm kind of committed to your sister," J.J. was unable to resist quipping. Blake burst out laughing in response, and J.J. found himself grinning slightly as well. "Besides, if you're going to thank me, you should really invite Tristan as well."

"Ah, right, the other Kamen Rider," Blake nodded. "I wouldn't mind, but I have some ulterior motives. For one, like I said, I feel like I should get to know my sister's boyfriend a little better. Plus… I was also hoping to hire you for a night or two."

J.J. frowned slightly. "I'm not exactly doing this for pay, and I'd feel uncomfortable-" he began.

"Then I won't pay you," Blake said with a shrug. "But that monster is clearly gunning for me, and I'm worried that it might teleport into my home and hold me hostage again. I was hoping you'd be willing to play bodyguard for a little while, if that's not too much trouble, while your partner is searching for it in the city. Let me treat you to a good meal, chat with you a bit, and act as bait for that monster to come after. If your partner catches the monster first, then you have nothing to worry about and you even get a nice dinner out of it. What do you say?"

J.J. hesitated. Blake did bring up some good points, and he had an easy charisma that made it hard for J.J. to turn him down. Given his sister's charms, J.J. was starting to see how the Marks family had consistently risen to the position of leaders of the city, if they were all so persuasive, he thought wryly. Sighing, he nodded once. "Alright, I accept," he said ruefully.

"Great," Blake beamed. "Now, you're going to want to-"

"J.J.?" a voice called out, and both men looked towards the sound, J.J. glancing over his shoulder. Gwen stepped out of one of the ruined shopping centers, looking a bit battered, but otherwise fine. J.J. took one look at her and hurried over her, quickly gripping her upper arms as he looked her over.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, fine," Gwen assured him quickly. "That Diemon didn't get far enough in to…." She looked past him, however, and suddenly turned pale. J.J. saw her visibly swallow as her eyes widened, and she said softly, "Blake."

"Gwen," Blake replied, and J.J. immediately felt the air between them grow cold. "Glad to see you're-"

"What do you want?" Gwen asked icily. J.J. raised an eyebrow. Gwen was normally quite cheerful, and while she had gotten angry with him before, he had never seen a look of such cold hatred on her face. It reminded him strongly of how he had looked at his mother for years.

"I simply invited your boyfriend out to dinner," Blake shrugged. "That's not a problem, is it?"

Gwen went pale, her blue eyes widening. "You…." she whispered.

" _That's not a problem, is it_?" Blake repeated emphatically, tilting his head. "After all, it's not like there's no reason for him to come, is there?"

J.J. frowned at Gwen as well, a sense of worry starting to creep over him from how she was acting. "Gwen…?" he asked softly.

"I… how about if I come along as well?" Gwen asked suddenly.

"But you seem to avoid me whenever you can," Blake replied. "Why the sudden interest now?"

"Well… I mean, it's been too long since I last spoke with you," Gwen replied, her voice sounding strained. "Besides, if you're going to meet my boyfriend, it's only right that I come as well."

"Ah, that's a fair point," Blake nodded, smiling pleasantly. "I certainly don't mind. Do you, J.J.?"

"No. Honestly, I'd feel a bit better if she was with me," J.J. replied, though he was looking at Gwen suspiciously.

"Excellent! Then I'll see you both at seven tonight," Blake chuckled. "There's a restaurant and lounge off of Vine Street that I can give you the directions for. I'll make the reservations. All you two have to do is show up. I'm looking forward to it," Blake said, holding his hand out again. J.J. smiled and took his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Marks," J.J. replied.

"Blake," he insisted, smiling warmly, before turning and walking back to his limousine.

J.J.'s smile faded as he turned to look at Gwen, who seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack. "Alright, what was that about?" he asked her bluntly.

"I just… I think meeting with him tonight is a bad idea," Gwen replied, looking away from J.J. uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I would have preferred that he not corner you like that…."

"He got attacked by a Diemon and wanted to say thanks. It's not like he yanked me off the street and held a knife to my throat until I agreed to have dinner," J.J. pointed out. "What's got you so riled up? This seems to go beyond just being nervous about bringing your boyfriend to meet the family."

"I just… my brother and I don't have the best relationship," Gwen murmured.

"Yeah, no, I got that," J.J. replied, giving her a nonplussed look. "But this seems to go beyond that. Why don't you tell me-?"

"It's nothing. What's done is done. I'll just have to… tolerate him for an evening, I guess," Gwen muttered.

"I don't get it," J.J. commented, folding his arms over his chest. "Every time you've talked about him, you've spoken quite highly of him.

"I respect him. That doesn't mean I like him," Gwen said coldly. "Given your relationship with your mother, I figured you'd understand that."

"Ow. Sorry," J.J. said defensively.

"No… I'm sorry. That wasn't fair," Gwen sighed, turning and taking his cheeks in his hands. "I'm just not looking forward to this is all. Hopefully he behaves himself. Until then… I'll go… prepare myself, I guess," she murmured.

J.J. continued to watch her, bewildered, as she turned and walked away, her shoulders slumped. J.J. chewed on his cheek before jogging to catch up with her. As he moved to match her pace, he suddenly realized that he didn't know if Tristan had managed to catch the Diemon. One other thing to keep an eye out for during what was shaping up to be a very busy evening, he thought wryly as he walked beside his girlfriend.

* * *

"Strange. Is there no indication as to why Lady Marks had such a strong reaction to her brother's presence?" Tristan asked, his arms folded over his chest.

"She refused to talk about it," J.J. replied as he slowly buttoned up his dress shirt. They were in his apartment later that evening, with J.J. getting dressed to meet the Marks siblings while relaying the day's events to Tristan. "I get not liking your family, believe me, but I've never seen her so hostile towards someone. And it worries me that she didn't want to explain why. She's usually so candid with me. This is the first time she's completely shut me out."

"It is her right to do so, of course," Tristan said.

"Of course," J.J. agreed quickly. "Which is why I didn't press her when she seemed like she didn't want to talk about it. Doesn't stop me from worrying. That said, at least this is a good opportunity to close in on that Diemon."

"Indeed. Would you care to elaborate?" Tristan asked.

"Blake said that he's worried the Diemon might be targeting him, and I'm honestly inclined to agree," J.J. replied as he began pulling his bronze-colored tie through the collar of his shirt. "The Black Seraph gives people D-formers because he seems to think they have the potential to get obsessed with something. If that Diemon believes Blake has their mother's necklace, then they're likely to make another attempt to get at him."

"Your logic is sound. What would you suggest, then?" Tristan pressed.

"I can keep an eye on Blake and Gwen while we're having dinner. That's not a problem," J.J. said, walking over to his chair and pulling on his black suit jacket. "But if we can intercept the Diemon before they can wreak havoc in the restaurant, that'd be even better. Do you think you can run patrols around the area while we're eating?"

"That is a task I can certainly accomplish, page," Tristan said. "However, would it not be simpler to simply rely upon your diary's ability to track Diemons once it becomes active?"

"The biggest problem is that we don't know what the thief looks like outside of their Diemon form, so they could just remain untransformed and shoot Blake from a rooftop or something," J.J. replied, pausing to dust off one arm of his suit. "If I'm close to Blake, we minimize the chances of that happening, and you can patrol around and watch for anyone suspicious."

"But… would you not be better versed in what passes for suspicious in this time?" Tristan pointed out.

"I would," J.J. admitted. "But Blake invited _me_ to dinner, so this gives me a chance to guard him without it being awkward, and having me play bodyguard for him isn't a bad alternative. Besides, you're a knight and former guardsman, and I'm sure that you at least can recognize when someone is acting odd. Even a thousand years later, I don't think strange behavior has changed all that much."

"If you believe so, I shall trust your judgment," Tristan said.

"Now," J.J. continued, "While the thief simply sniping Blake from a distance is still something we need to be cautious of, I think if they were going to go down that route, they wouldn't be using the D-former in the first place. They might not want to kill Blake if they can take the necklace they want bloodlessly. So, we can probably expect them to transform at some point to go after Blake as a blink dog. While we'll know it's active if my diary goes off, that thing's teleportation makes it a pain to track down. I feel like if we tried chasing them, we'd be running all over the city all night again, like we were earlier. This way, we're setting a trap for them."

"Using Lord Marks as bait," Tristan said, scowling faintly.

"He was the one who came up with the idea," J.J. shrugged. "Besides, aren't you used to protecting nobles? Wasn't that something royal guards did?"

"Indeed, but… setting aside the fact that I was not technically a royal guard, I do not believe Lord Marks has combat experience," Tristan replied, still frowning. "In my day, the nobility were expected to be among the greatest warriors. That is no longer the case, and it makes protecting him much more difficult. We cannot expect him to be able to defend himself if our foe slips between us."

"Then we'll just have to be extra careful, won't we?" J.J. asked. "Besides, I trust you. You've got this."

"You flatter me, page. Let us hope that I do not fail to rise to your expectations," Tristan said grimly. He then slowly smiled. "Though I must admit, I do find it rather unfair that you may enjoy a pleasant meal this evening while I am required to remain vigilant for our quarry."

"Tell you what, I'll get you a doggie bag," J.J. grinned.

Tristan glowered. "You suggest that I am only fit to consume food reserved for dogs?" he asked, sounding thoroughly insulted.

"No, it… I blame your translator for that one," J.J. sighed. "I'll save you some dessert."

"Ah. Acceptable, then," Tristan said, mollified, while J.J. chuckled. He finished buttoning his jacket, before turning around and holding his arms out.

"So how do I look?" he asked.

"I believe you are underdressed for the occasion," Tristan replied, giving his suit an unimpressed look. "I would recommend a velvet tunic and cloak, preferably trimmed with silver or gold… you will also require several rings, and perhaps a circlet…."

"Okay, you've been living in this time period for months now," J.J. scowled. "How has Susumu not shown you our formal wear yet?"

"I jest," Tristan replied, grinning as J.J. scowled a bit deeper. "You appear sufficiently groomed. Your appearance should impress your host."

"Suppose that's the best I'm gonna get, huh?" J.J. grumbled as a knock came on the door. He spun on his heel and walked towards the door, pulling it open to see Gwen standing on the doorstep, looking up at him shyly. J.J.'s eyes widened and he felt his cheeks burning.

Gwen was dressed in a form-fitting white dress with slender straps holding it over her delicate shoulders. Her pale hair had been lightly curled, so it hung loosely over her shoulders in loose ringlets, with a diamond hairband keeping it out of her face. She wore silver bracelets on her wrists, and silver-strapped shoes over her otherwise bare feet. When she saw him staring at her appearance, her smile broadened slightly.

"How do I look?" she asked softly.

"Beautiful," J.J. replied without hesitation, and Gwen's own face flushed as she glanced away, coughing.

"It's been a while since I dressed up like this. Consider this a favor only for you," she muttered, still unable to meet his eyes.

"For me? You're the one who insisted on coming," J.J. pointed out, smirking down at her. Gwen's shy smile vanished, replaced with a pout.

"I had to come along. You don't know what my brother's like," she muttered, before sighing and looking past him at Tristan standing in the middle of his apartment, watching them with an utterly amused look on his face. "Are you going to be playing chaperone tonight?"

"Guard, rather," Tristan replied. "I shall remain vigilant for our quarry. Nevertheless, I am of the opinion that your escort shall provide sufficient protection should it come to that. And in the meantime, I insist that you enjoy your evening."

"You're too good to us, Tristan," Gwen said. Tristan bowed humbly to her, as she turned her attention back to J.J. "We should get going."

"Right. Ah… my bike's not going to be great for this kind of formal wear…." J.J. trailed off uncomfortably as Tristan stepped out of the room to let him lock it, heading down the stairs to get his own motorcycle.

"Don't worry. My brother took care of that. Nothing but the best," Gwen added under her breath with a note of bitterness. J.J. frowned at her as she motioned for him to follow her. Once they were down the stairs and outside, J.J. raised an eyebrow in surprise as he saw a limousine waiting patiently for them next to the curb, the driver standing with her hands folded in front of her. When she saw the pair approaching, she opened the door for them, ushering them inside.

"Well. Been a while since I rode in one of these," he commented as he let Gwen step inside the plush interior first. The walls were lined with red velvet, and a decanter of wine had been set out for them to enjoy on the drive over.

"You've done this before?" Gwen asked, surprised.

"My mother occasionally liked to make an impression when she had a major book deal in the works," J.J. said with a wry smile as he took a seat beside her. He held his arm out, and she hesitated for a moment before snuggling under his arm as the driver began down the street. "She rented a driver every once in a while."

"Right. I forget sometimes that you weren't exactly raised poor," Gwen commented.

"Nope. We weren't rich, but we were comfortable," J.J. agreed. "I did get the occasional taste of the finer things in life. It's fun every once in a while, but I don't think I could do it all the time."

"I certainly couldn't," Gwen muttered. J.J. glanced down at her, frowning faintly. "That was always Blake's thing."

"Do you want to tell me a bit more about him?" he asked softly.

"There's not much to tell," Gwen shrugged. "Blake is the type of person who likes to control everything around him. That includes me. More than once, I've disagreed with his plans for the direction of this city or our family, and we've had fights. I eventually decided that we needed space from each other and moved out, since he _is_ the patriarch of the family and the money and titles are in his name."

J.J. frowned at her slightly. "Did he cut you off?"

"No. I'm free to do as I please, and he'll support me. But he's got this… arrogance, this sense that no matter what I do, his whims will always supersede mine. Especially when it comes to-" She hesitated, then looked away, swallowing.

"What?" J.J. asked.

"Nothing," she sighed. "Just know that he'll have this air of… inevitability about him. If what you say about the future is outside his plans, he'll dismiss it. He thoroughly believes destiny is on his side, and that any path he takes will lead him to the conclusions he wants."

"That's… an odd way of looking at the world," J.J. said softly.

"You'll see for yourself, believe me," Gwen sighed. J.J. quickly decided to change the subject.

The two chatted softly for the rest of the ride, until they pulled up in front of a ritzy restaurant with a forest green awning. The driver got out and held the door open for the pair, Gwen leading the way while J.J. held her hand, and as the two emerged, they saw Blake approaching them, smiling warmly.

"If you'll please follow me? I have a table reserved for us," Blake said smoothly, holding his hand out for them to walk in front of them.

"Do you own this restaurant?" J.J. asked, half-joking, glancing around at the décor. The floors were polished black marble and deep red carpeting, with mahogany chairs and marble tables set up at regular intervals, and a long, wood-toned bar along one wall. Soft jazz music played from the overhead speakers, and nearly everyone spoke in a low murmur.

"No, but I'm friends with the manager, and he owes me a few favors," Blake chuckled, as a waiter spotted them and immediately began leading them towards a private booth. Blake took a seat across from J.J. and Gwen as they were handed menus.

"Order whatever you like, please. I insist," Blake added smoothly, opening his own menu. Gwen paused, glowering at him over the wine list.

"You didn't bring your bodyguards tonight?" Gwen snipped at him.

Blake shot her a look, his smile shifting very slightly, so that J.J. could almost swear he was smirking. "I decided to give them a night off," he replied. "I wanted to get to know your current paramour without any interference."

"That's a change, for you," Gwen replied coldly. "I can't remember the last time you deigned to come down from your ivory tower."

"I come down all the time, as you put it," Blake replied with a frown. "Most of my work is goodwill, after all."

"That's something I've been wondering," J.J. said, after they had ordered. "Gwen mentioned that the Marks family used to almost be hereditary mayors of the city. But… you decided to stay out of politics. Why is that?"

Blake looked at him thoughtfully. "That's a rather insightful question. Honestly, it's because the world has changed. Back when the country was first founded, politicians had much more power. However, in the modern age, the politicians became more closely tied to the business owners. Money is what dictates who held the reins, rather than the personality of who sits in the chair. Therefore, I decided that I should do the same. Furthermore, I've found that investing my time in finance rather than politics has also allowed me much more freedom than if I were bound by an elected office."

"To what end, though?" J.J. asked.

"Because I want to help this city," Blake replied. Gwen rolled her eyes, making a noise of disgust, but Blake ignored her. "I feel like it's my duty – my family's duty – to do everything in our power to help the people of Marville. If that meant being mayor, I was happy to do that. Since money is now the means to that end instead, I'm following that path."

"Yeah. Too bad you have no idea what's good for the people of the city," Gwen muttered.

Blake's smile faded slightly, his gaze turning cold. "We've had this discussion before, Gwen. Besides, you've never offered alternatives."

"That's because I don't pretend to know what's right for people. I don't try to make their decisions for them," Gwen snapped.

"Enough!" Blake snapped, before lowering his voice, as J.J. glanced between the two, bewildered. "Enough. We're supposed to be having a nice night." Blake turned his attention to J.J., smiling pleasantly. "So if you don't mind me asking, how did you two meet?"

J.J. blinked, but cleared his throat, trying to smooth over the tension festering between the siblings. "Ah… well, we met in a tavern that we both frequent." He began. "She saw me setting up for a tabletop game that I enjoy, and she was curious what it was about…."

J.J. spent most of the time they were waiting for their food regaling Blake about his friendship with Gwen, while the man listened quietly. When the food finally arrived, J.J. was treated to some of the most delicious dishes he'd ever eaten. Roasted pumpkin soup, duck confit, and a lemon cheesecake all came together with a glass of a sweet rose wine to leave him stuffed and satisfied by the time the last dishes were cleared. Blake noticed J.J.'s languid state and chuckled faintly, holding his glass up in a playful toast.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself," he commented.

"It was fantastic. Thank you," J.J. added, inclining his head in thanks while Blake smiled warmly at him.

"My pleasure. As I said, it's just a small token of my own thanks. Not just for saving my life, but for everything you've done for the city," Blake said. J.J. opened his mouth in protest, and he added, "I know you're not doing it for a reward, but nevertheless, please accept my gratitude. Your humility does you credit, but there's nothing wrong with accepting someone's hospitality, is there?"

"I suppose not," J.J. said with a rueful smile. Beside him, Gwen scowled, but didn't say anything. Blake sat back in the booth, glancing around the room, before his eyes fell on something at a nearby table in the lounge area.

"The night's still young," he said, setting down his glass and standing up. "I have a suggestion. You said that you enjoyed board games, right? How are you at chess?"

J.J. blinked in surprise. "Not the sort of board game that I normally play, but I'm not bad," he replied. He'd spent some time practicing in Gary's tavern when no one was in the mood to run his tabletop campaign. "I'm no expert, but I've won a few games."

"Excellent! Shall we?" Blake suggested. J.J. glanced at Gwen, who shrugged and slid out of the way for J.J. to rise. She followed the two men as they took their seats on opposite sides of the board, J.J. taking white while Blake took control of black. The game began in silence for a few turns, with J.J. starting out conservatively and Blake matching his moves as they felt each other out.

"I have a question for you," Blake said suddenly, watching as J.J.'s knight took one of his pawns. "What would you say is the most powerful piece on the chess board?"

J.J. frowned, looking up. "Are you trying to distract me from the game?" he asked, grinning lightly. "I'm sorry if you're upset that you're losing."

"Ah, that's just my strategy to lull you into a false sense of security," Blake chuckled, moving a bishop diagonally two spaces to capture one of J.J.'s knights. "Humor me."

J.J. sat back, frowning as he gazed at the board thoughtfully. He tapped his fingers against his leg, before smiling softly and finally holding up a pawn. "I would have to say this."

Blake's eyes widened slightly, a curious expression dawning on him. "That's not something most people would pick. Mind explaining?"

"In and of itself, a pawn isn't a particularly powerful piece," J.J. replied, setting the piece down again as he sat back in his chair. "But what it represents is much more powerful. The pawn represents potential. It's the only piece on the board that, through its own merits, can better itself. While its journey across the board is perilous, by the end of its journey, it can become as clever as a knight or as powerful as a queen. What's more, they also enjoy strength in numbers. Combine that with their latent potential, and it's possible – however unlikely – to have an army of nine queens, which would be essentially an automatic win, as every possible avenue of movement by your opponent would be covered. So… yeah, I'll go with a pawn as my answer," J.J. finished, setting one of his own down after moving it forward a space.

Blake raised an eyebrow at his move, before smirking at Gwen. "I can see why you like this one."

"Blake…." Gwen growled warningly in reply.

"And that's a rather fitting answer, given who you are," Blake added, looking at J.J. with a smile that wasn't unkind. "Considering that you seem to like slipping into any role at will, yes, I can see how potential would be alluring to you. I agree, too, that pawns should be respected for their potential. They're also the only piece on the board that can only move forward, and every step draws them nearer to self-improvement, which is admirable in its own way. However… I also disagree with you that the pawn is the most powerful piece."

"Oh?" J.J. asked conversationally, taking a sip of his wine as he waited for Blake to make another move. "What would you say it is?"

"It's quite simple," Blake replied. He grabbed his king and held it up, smiling lightly at J.J. from behind it.

"Also an unusual choice," J.J. replied. "I find it funny that neither of us said the queen. So, what's your reasoning?"

"Simply because of its importance to the game itself," Blake replied, settling back in the chair with a mysterious smile. "The entire purpose of chess is to capture a single piece. An entire army has been assembled to protect it, and every move is made to ensure its protection and to facilitate the capture of its opposite. What's more, though, is the fact that the king is the only piece on the board that can never _be_ captured. The game ends when the king _would_ have been captured in the next turn, but it never actually happens."

J.J. frowned faintly at Blake. "Yeah, but the game is still over. The king's lost."

"The king lost because it decided it lost," Blake replied. "The losing player must concede defeat. But the king is the one that decides the game is over, and it's never truly taken. It's an immortal piece. If that's not power, I don't know what is."

J.J. tilted his head thoughtfully as Gwen sighed and rubbed her eyes. A moment later, Blake moved his last piece, smiling up at J.J. "Checkmate," he said smoothly.

J.J. glanced down at the board, chewing on the inside of his cheek, before looking up at Blake with a frown. "Why the philosophical question, though?" he asked.

"I must confess, the main reason why I called you out here was to get a gauge on the sort of man that my sister ensnared," Blake chuckled. "You've gotten quite famous in these parts, but I know little about you, and I wanted to change that."

"Really? And what's your assessment?" J.J. asked with a wary chuckle.

Blake gazed at him quietly for a few moments, before turning to Gwen, answering the question to her. "Honestly, I expected you to go for someone stronger," Blake said. J.J. felt his smile falter slightly.

"Strength isn't everything," Gwen replied coldly. "I made that mistake last time."

"No, I suppose it isn't. But I also didn't think that this would be your next choice," Blake chuckled, settling back in his chair. "You continue to surprise me, sister. But I'm glad to see that I have nothing to worry about."

"What do you mean by that?" J.J. asked, a confused sort of anger starting to well up inside him for some reason.

Blake glanced back at him, then laughed and held up a hand. "I'm sorry! I meant to say that you're a good man, J.J., and I think you're a good match for my sister. I'm also glad to see that she seems happy with her choice."

"Ah… then, thank you," J.J. muttered, though he still felt annoyed for some reason. Gwen, seeming to notice his confusion, slipped over to him and gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning into him slightly.

"Don't worry about him," Gwen murmured.

"Well… at least I have his approval?" J.J. chuckled uneasily. Gwen glanced away from him, seeming to be unable to meet his eyes. "What is it?"

"I suppose you could say that," Gwen replied softly. "But believe me, his approval isn't as important as you might think."

"What do you mean?" J.J. asked. Before she could answer, however, something began buzzing in his pocket. J.J. slid his hand down automatically and felt that his diary was vibrating.

Gwen and Blake both frowned as they noticed the change in J.J.'s expression as he narrowed his eyes. He held out his hand, and his quill flew into his palm as he glanced around the restaurant warily. From the way his diary was vibrating, the Diemon was close. Closer than he was comfortable with, he thought grimly. A moment later, people downstairs began screaming. Before he could react, a figure appeared out of thin air on the coffee table where J.J. and Blake had been playing, scattering the chess pieces everywhere. The blink dog glanced around briefly, then snarled as its yellow eyes fell on Blake. By that point, J.J. had clicked his quill out into its sword form, and he stepped towards the dog, slicing at it from behind. His blade slashed through its back, causing the monster to let out a cry of pain before whirling on J.J., snarling.

"Stay out of this!" the dog snapped at him, baring its teeth. Behind him, Blake stood up, but instead of edging away, he stared at the fight brewing, his eyes wide with interest.

"Fascinating!" Blake exclaimed. J.J. shifted forward, stepping between Blake and the dog, pointing his blade at the Diemon to keep it at bay as it snarled ferally. Gwen rose as well, slipping behind J.J.

"Gwen, you know the drill by now!" J.J. told her in a hurried voice. "Can you find your way out of here?"

"Of course," Gwen replied quickly. Before they could move, however, the dog disappeared again. J.J. immediately shifted his position, holding his blade up as he did a complete turn and pushed Blake behind him again just as the dog appeared where Blake had been standing a moment before. It seemed surprised to see J.J. already waiting, brandishing his sword, and it let out a cry as J.J. stepped in with a hard thrust, his blade sending up a shower of sparks and knocking the blink dog over the railing behind it. It crashed into the floor below, destroying a piano, as the other patrons of the restaurant began screaming and running for the exit. Below him, the blink dog growled up at him, lying flat on its back, while J.J. smirked.

"Yeah, I use that trick too," he said smugly, glancing over at Gwen. "Get out of here!"

"Sure. But I'm not just saving my own hide. Blake, you're coming with me," Gwen replied. J.J. frowned at her.

"If this Diemon is after Blake, then all I have to do is stick by him," J.J. replied, the wheels in his mind turning rapidly as he tried to decide the best course of action.

"Yeah, but it's going after members of the Marks family, so it could come after me too. And if I go running off on my own, it's got another Marks member it can track down who's undefended," Gwen replied simply. "Meaning it'd just have two chances to get the information it wants instead of one. I can take Blake out of here while you fight it without having to worry about protecting us. Besides, you know me, I've got a knack for getting out of these situations unharmed," she added with a wry grin.

J.J. hesitated, considering her request. He didn't agree with putting them both in danger, but he realized that she had a point. "Alright," he agreed finally. "Just keep each other safe."

"Right," Gwen said, pulling on Blake's arm. The two ran for a back exit while J.J. pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Tristan's number. As soon as Tristan picked up, J.J. heard his motorcycle running. "Tristan!" he said loudly. "The Diemon is in the restaurant. Hurry over here."

"I shall be there momentarily, page. Keep our foe occupied," Tristan replied shortly, shutting off his phone. J.J. did the same, shoving his phone back into his own pocket. By this point, the Diemon started to climb to its feet, but J.J. immediately vaulted over the railing of the stairs, brandishing his sword at the dog to keep its attention on him.

"Get out of the way!" the Diemon snarled, snapping at J.J. with its jaws. "I don't have any reason to fight you! My business is with Blake Marks!"

"If your business is with the Marks family, then your business is with me," J.J. replied coldly, pulling his diary out of his pants pocket with one hand, his other still holding the sword up to the blink dog's throat. "I understand that you feel you've been wronged, but this isn't how you should be-."

"Don't preach to me!" the dog barked. "What gives you the right?!"

"The fact that you're planning to hurt them, and that I promised to protect them," J.J. replied coolly. "I'll ask again: can we settle this peacefully?"

"We're long past the point of this ending peacefully," the blink dog replied with a threatening growl. Without warning, it lunged forward, its jaws open and teeth bared.

"Henshin!" J.J. cried, his Driver appearing around his waist. Before the blink dog could bite him, he slotted his diary and quickly spun the amber D-former in the center of the book. He was protected by an amber crystal force-field at the last second, which spun around him quickly as a booming voice announced, **"Adventure: Begin!"** The Diemon was sent flying across the room, crashing into several expensive bottles of liquor behind the bar. Trumpets began playing as J.J. was enveloped by the flexible leather-like armor of his Adventurer Class. Once the spinning stopped, he cautiously started forward towards the blink dog, which had disappeared behind the counter.

J.J. kept his blade high as he slowly peeked over the edge of the counter, looking down to see if the dog was hiding or waiting to pounce. When he looked down, however, he saw a puddle of liquid, but no evidence of the Diemon. J.J. immediately swung around, slashing in a short arc behind him just as the blink dog reappeared. His weapon sliced through the beast's flesh, sending it staggering backwards again with a loud whimper. J.J. shook his head, giving his sword a little twirl as he advanced on the Diemon slowly.

"I'm sorry it's come to this. Alea iacta est," J.J. said, bringing his sword up and slashing down at the Diemon. The monster dove out of the way at the last second, snarling as it delivered a hard kick to J.J.'s ankle. He let out a cry as he was knocked off-balance and sent sprawling to the floor, though he kept his grip on his sword. The blink dog immediately pounced on him, snapping its jaws, but J.J. managed to get his blade up in time and hold it to the Diemon's throat, keeping it at bay, if just barely. One of his knees came up and he caught it in the stomach, using his strength to flip the blink dog over him and knock it away before quickly climbing to his feet, holding his sword out in front of him again to ward the beast off.

The blink dog hesitated, its ears back and tail wagging furiously as it stalked around him, looking rather like a werewolf. J.J. then noticed it was sniffing the air, glancing around furtively, before it turned its gaze upstairs and grinned. J.J.'s eyes widened, and he immediately pounced, slashing at the Diemon, but it vanished before he had the chance to land the blow.

J.J. swore under his breath, wondering where Tristan was. For a moment, he considered asking him to keep an eye out for Gwen and Blake on the streets, but then he realized that it was better for Tristan to just meet him at the restaurant. If they could take the blink dog out together, it would make protecting the Marks siblings moot, he thought with a grim smile. That was what he should focus on, as Gwen had suggested.

J.J. pulled his diary out of his belt, letting its vibration guide him as he slowly began to wander around the bar. It was almost as though he was playing a game of "hot or cold," he thought sardonically. His diary finally began vibrating a bit faster as when he approached the stairs. He quickly sprinted up the stairs as the book began buzzing louder, and he followed the vibration up to another door, this one labeled "Roof Access." J.J. briefly tried the door, but found it was locked. Sighing, he kicked it open, easily busting through it in his enhanced state, while wincing at the property damage. Privately, he wondered, if he was asked, if he could just blame that on the Diemon. He smiled grimly to himself as he stepped out the door and into the warm night air, the full moon shining above him brightly.

Once on the roof, he glanced around, and a moment later spotted the blink dog in the center of the roof, sniffing the air and looking over the edge to see if he could find the siblings. J.J. approached the monster slowly from behind, but any thoughts he had of sneaking up on it were dashed as the dog's sensitive ears turned towards his boots crunching on the gravelly surface, and it spun around, snarling at him.

"Tell me where they are!" the Diemon barked at him, its ears back and its fur standing on end. "I can smell them! They should be nearby!"

"That's odd," J.J. said softly. "I thought your tracking abilities were better than that. Tell me, how did you know they would be at the restaurant tonight?"

"Do you think I haven't learned how to track Marks's movements?" the dog snarled. "The man's the most visible person in the city! It's like he _wants_ to be caught! This form just makes it easier to get past his security! Now… tell me where he is, and I won't tear you to ribbons. I've already said, I don't want to hurt anyone if I don't have to. My problem is with him."

"I know it is, but letting you hurt even one person isn't something I'm going to allow," J.J. replied calmly. "Even if I was going to tell you, though, I don't know where they are either. So… we can handle this one of two ways. If you really don't want to fight, then surrender your D-former and we can work this out somehow. Or, we can fight, if we really have to do this the hard way. But I'm not going to let you get your paws on Blake."

The blink dog lowered its ears, snarling, its claws extended. "Fine. If you're that dead set on protecting him… I'll just have to go through you!"

The dog vanished, and J.J. started to turn around, expecting it to appear behind him again. Thus, he was caught off-guard when it reappeared in front of him instead, its claws inches from him. Before he could raise his guard, the dog delivered a vicious kick knocked him across the roof, briefly knocking the wind out of him. It leaped towards him, claws extended and jaws open, but J.J. rolled onto his back and planted his foot in its chest, kicking off and sending it flying over him. The dog landed several feet away near the edge of the roof, relatively unharmed, but clearly frustrated, as it growled ferally at him.

J.J. slowly climbed to his feet, shaking his head, and as he pushed himself up, he dropped one hand to his belt, his fingers resting on the blue and black D-formers along the spine. He gave them both a spin at the same time, and his Driver cried into the night air, **"Reroll! Multiclass: Bard**!" A violin played as a blue and black D-former coalesced around him to form a deep amethyst crystal, which rotated rapidly as his leather armor split and lengthened out into a purple leather longcoat, which fluttered in the wind. As the spinning stopped, J.J. gripped his rapier, having formulated a plan while he had been lying on the ground.

When the blink dog lunged at him again, he stepped out of the way, letting a clone appear in his place where he had been standing, with its blade out. The Diemon yelped in surprise and twisted in midair, avoiding the illusionary blade but colliding awkwardly with the ground as it was sent sprawling across the roof. J.J. smiled behind his mask and concentrated for a moment, creating the illusion of Blake standing near the door of the roof.

The Diemon shook its head, looking past J.J. and spotting the illusion of Blake, its yellow eyes widening with delight. It tore across the roof on all fours, opening its jaws and leaping towards the phantom. At the last moment, just to add insult to prospective injury, J.J. made the illusion disappear, and the blink dog let out a yelp as it slammed head-first into the heavy metal door of the roof, bashing its skull hard enough to leave a dent in the door. J.J. winced as the dog whined, staggering away, but J.J. took advantage of its dazed state to charge in and deliver three quick strikes to its torso with his rapier, with sparks flying from the blows each time. He then kicked it in the chest again, knocking it across the hard gravel of the roof before giving his sword a little twirl.

J.J. walked slowly towards the dog, keeping his guard low, as he looked down at the dog lying on its side, panting and wheezing in pain. "We can keep doing this all night," J.J. said quietly. "That form of yours is great for tracking and teleporting, but not so much for fighting. I'm going to ask you one more time to surren-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, one yellow eye opened, and the Diemon disappeared, appearing behind him. Its claws raked his back, and J.J. was sent stumbling forward. The blink dog disappeared again, slashing him across the chest, then vanished before J.J. could counter. A third strike hit him in the shoulder, and a fourth in the leg, each time with the Diemon vanishing before J.J. could fight back or raise a clone to distract his opponent. Finally, the dog sank its jaws around J.J.'s shoulder. J.J. yelled in pain, positioning his blade at the Diemon's stomach and jabbing it hard enough to knock it off. The dog stepped back, growling, while J.J. held his shoulder and winced.

"Right… idiot," he muttered under his breath. "Stop getting cocky and finish the fight already."

J.J. slid his hand down to his diary and put two fingers on the blue and black D-formers in his belt, giving the crystals a quick spin. His diary shouted, **"Critical!"** as he made a trio of clones appear around the blink dog, which growled at the illusions, but seemed otherwise unperturbed by them. A violet D-former briefly appeared around J.J. before splitting into three smaller dice, which embedded themselves in the clones, and the figures began to glow with a deep purple outline. The quartet then raised their blades in a fencing stance, and before the blink dog could teleport away, they began jabbing him rapidly from all sides.

The shadow blades of J.J.'s Major Image Critical pierced deep into the Diemon's body, leaving purple marks where the blades struck. J.J. focused his own efforts on the Diemon's chest as it bounced back and forth between the solid shadow swords. When the attack finished, the clones disappeared, and the blink dog staggered backwards, gasping and wheezing from the assault. J.J. paused, assessing the blink dog, before pulling out his diary and reverting to his Adventurer Class to check its health. To his surprise, the Diemon was somehow clinging on to a shred of life.

The sound of slow clapping distracted J.J., who turned to stare, shocked, at Blake watching him from the adjacent rooftop. He was laughing merrily, and Gwen was nowhere in sight. J.J. gaped at him, both for his sudden appearance, and his utter stupidity. The blink dog likewise turned its gaze towards him, and while it had been one strike away from collapsing a moment earlier, it seemed to find its second wind just at Blake's arrival. It began snarling again as J.J. stepped between Blake and the dog, his sword raised.

"Blake, you idiot, what are you doing?!" J.J. shouted over his shoulder, keeping one eye on the blink dog while glancing over at the Marks brother with the other. "Get out of here! You _know_ this thing is after your blood!"

"Yes, I know," Blake shrugged calmly, putting his hands in his pocket. "In fact, that's precisely what I've been banking on. I must say, it's a fun twist, being the object of one of my citizen's desires for a change. But, if that's what it takes to help them fulfill their desired role as an avenger, I'm happy to play my part as the villain of their story, if only for a bit."

J.J. lowered his blade slightly, utterly baffled by Blake's attitude. "What the hell are you talking about?!" he asked incredulously. "They're going to try and kill you!"

"Well, if you're a good enough protector, that won't happen, will it?" Blake pointed out. "I also wanted to see how you'd handle a situation like this firsthand, after everything I've heard about you."

"Is this a game to you?!" J.J. shouted. The blink dog, likewise, was hesitating, seeming just as confused by Blake's leisurely attitude. Blake, however, simply smiled and folded his hands in front of him, utterly unperturbed.

Another figure came running up the fire escape, and J.J. recognized her before she had even finished climbing the stairwell. Her pale hair was unmistakable, and her white dress just made Gwen stand out even more. She paused, glancing from Blake to J.J. and the blink dog, before hurrying over to Blake and grabbing his arm.

"There you are! Don't run off like that, you idiot!" Gwen snapped at him, trying to tug him towards the fire escape. "Come on! J.J. can't protect you if you're intentionally putting yourself in danger!"

"Come now, sister," Blake replied, smirking at her. "You and I both know that neither of us are in any real danger."

Gwen stopped pulling on his arm, her blue eyes widening. "Wh-what are you talking about?" she stammered. "There's a monster right over there! If we don't hurry up and get out of here-!"

"Enough. It's high time you stopped this charade," Blake said, his smile fading and his expression turning cold. "To be honest, after speaking with him tonight, I pity this boy. It's painful, watching him dance at the end of your string."

J.J. felt his confusion start to give way to apprehension as Gwen stepped back, narrowing her eyes at her brother. "Now's not the time, Blake," she growled.

"No? Then when will be?" Blake replied, smirking at her. He turned towards J.J., putting his hands behind his back. "It's unfair that you're not telling him everything. If you expect him to fight, he should know what he's fighting for, shouldn't he?"

"Gwen?" J.J. asked, lowering his sword as he swallowed. "What's he talking about?"

"I'm going to tell him," Blake said in a taunting tone, sneering at Gwen.

"Don't! Don't you dare!" Gwen shouted at Blake, her voice desperate. "I'll… look, I can explain it to him, but this isn't how-!"

"Enough!" the blink dog howled, interrupting the siblings. "Give me back my mother's necklace, Marks!"

The dog took off at a sprint, before J.J. had time to react. It teleported from its rooftop to the one the siblings were standing on, reappearing inches from Blake. The dog drew its hand back to slash at him, but before it could, Blake reached out his hand, effortlessly catching the Diemon by the throat. J.J.'s eyes widened in shock as he effortlessly lifted the blink dog off the ground, holding it suspended in midair for a moment, before tossing it across the roof like a ragdoll.

"Blake!" Gwen cried. Her brother sighed, straightening his suit jacket before giving Gwen a sardonic look.

"Relax. It's unharmed. After all, I have no intention of hurting someone in my service," Blake said calmly. He then turned to address the Diemon lying on the ground near his feet. "Normally, we're sworn not to harm humans. However, we are permitted to defend ourselves if we're attacked. What's more, it's not exactly wise to bare your fangs at the person who gave you that power in the first place."

J.J. felt his heart stop. He stared at Blake from across the rooftop, too stunned to move. "What?" he asked hoarsely.

Blake smiled faintly as he turned towards J.J., holding his hands out. "Let me show you the secret of the Marks family, Mr. Wells. The one my sister has been hiding from you," Blake said. Though his voice was still glassy smooth, J.J. could hear a note of gloating behind it.

"Don't!" Gwen screamed, but then she was forced to shield her eyes as Blake was engulfed in a flash of blinding light, white at the center, but pitch black at the edges. J.J. likewise flew his hands up after a split second, his heart racing. When he lowered his hands, his mouth went dry and his breathing became short and stilted.

Where Blake had been standing was a figure that J.J. had only seen a few times, but recognized instantly, particularly due to the sheer terror his form invoked. Black robes billowed in the heavy wind blowing across the open rooftop. Six sable wings unfurled from his back, stretching mightily as though they had been pinned to his back for hours. His pale hands were clasped in front of him in a pose of sublime grace. A shining golden mask that seemed to radiate light in the glowing light of the full moon covered his face, hidden partially by the black hood on his head. Standing before J.J. was the imposing figure of the Black Seraph.

Several emotions shot through J.J. at once. Fear, anger, confusion, and then realization. That last emotion brought J.J. up short as he came to a sudden conclusion. If Blake was the Black Seraph…!

Slowly, J.J. looked past the black angel, fixing his gaze on the woman standing behind her brother. "That means…" he whispered to himself. In a soft voice, hardly able to carry across the rooftop, he called out, "…Gwen?"

Gwen's icy blue eyes widened as she realized what J.J. was asking, and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Her shoulders shook for a few moments before she was able to gather herself and look back towards him. In an equally soft voice, she called out, "J.J…. please… don't hate me…."

J.J. felt his limbs go slack as she was engulfed in a blinding white light, but this time, he was both unable to lift his arms up to shield his eyes, and unwilling to look away, needing to see the proof of what he suspected with his own eyes. When the light faded, J.J. stared, unblinking, at the other figure that had appeared. The polar opposite of the Black Seraph, a figure wrapped in snow-white robes, with ivory wings stretching out behind her. Her golden mask was tilted slightly downwards, her eyes, half-hidden by her hood, fixated on a spot on the roof in front of her. When she looked up slightly, J.J. shook his head, letting out a soft whisper of, "…I can't believe it."

Gwen had completely disappeared. Standing in her place was the radiant form of the other angel of the Marks family: The White Seraph.


	36. Session 33

**Session 33**

Time seemed to stop for J.J. as he stared, disbelieving, at the twin forms of the Seraphs standing side-by-side. The Black Seraph appeared triumphant, while the White Seraph continued to look away, unable to meet J.J.'s gaze. When J.J. was finally able to speak again, his throat was dry, and his voice sounded alien to him.

"…How?" he asked hoarsely. "Why?"

"How? We're alchemical beings, Kamen Rider," the Black Seraph replied calmly, keeping his hands folded in front of himself. "We can transmute our forms as we please. Assuming the shape of humans is a simple matter for us. As for the why… would you care to answer that, sister?" he added, glancing over at the White Seraph.

Gwen – the White Seraph – raised her head slightly, barely managing to meet J.J.'s gaze as he stared at her, his sword hanging limply from his hand. She took a deep breath before straightening up and looking at him directly. "I oppose what my brother has been doing," she said, her wings opening slightly. "And to that end, I needed a champion, someone who was willing to fight for me. I wanted-!"

Before she could continue, the Black Seraph began laughing, shaking his head. "Come now, sister. Even now, you insist on hiding the truth from him? Doesn't he deserve to know the real reason why you gave him his power?"

The White Seraph hesitated, looking down again. "I don't…!" she hesitated.

"If you truly believe what you're doing is righteous, then why aren't you being honest? I _know_ that my cause is just, so I'll happily explain my position. Tell me, Kamen Rider… what do you know of the Crown of Almencia?" the Black Seraph asked.

J.J. turned his gaze towards the Black Seraph, shaking his head. "It… it was created by Quintus in the past so that the King of Almencia could use the jewels that you created. To what end, though, I'm not sure…."

"To whatever end the King of Almencia desired," the Black Seraph explained. "You see, our father, Lord Quintus, believed that King Domitius was destined to be a righteous king, one of the greatest in history. He cared deeply for the happiness and prosperity of his people. The Crown was meant to be his tool to grant the people their desires, to let them fill any role they wished. Our jewels were created to be the batteries that powered it."

"What? How?" J.J. asked, frowning behind his mask. His shock was starting to wear off, replaced by glimmers of curiosity. It was enough to keep the more negative emotions he was also starting to feel from bubbling to the surface, so he decided to focus on his questions for the moment.

"I assume you don't understand the function of our jewels," the Black Seraph remarked. "They were meant to allow for alchemical transmutation, enabling a person to reform parts of themselves that they wouldn't be able to otherwise. My sister's jewels merely provide a person with a representation of who they are, while mine allow for actual modifications. The jewels draw upon a person's energy, storing it and reshaping it as necessary to help them fulfill their goals. One might think of them as focusing tools… though, admittedly focusing tools that allow people to achieve things far beyond their natural abilities."

"Then why do they cause people to become Diemons?" J.J. asked coldly. "Seems like a pretty serious design flaw."

"You think so?" the Black Seraph asked curiously. "To me, it's the purest representation that a person is earnestly trying to fit their role. They're giving their all to fulfill their dreams, and the jewels I provide act as a catalyst to help them reach new heights. What's more, the energy they provide is stored and can be retrieved and repurposed."

"Which in turn can be channeled into the crown," J.J. said slowly.

"Precisely," the Black Seraph nodded. "Which is why I have been content with allowing you to defeat those that have become… Diemons, as you called them, before they achieve Apotheosis. Though imperfect, the energy they provide can still be used to power the Crown, and I'm pleased that they didn't have to die to accomplish it. As I said, I don't relish killing my citizens if it can be avoided."

"Yeah, you're really soft-hearted, aren't you?!" J.J. yelled suddenly. "If that's the case, why the focus on Apotheosis? Everyone who achieves it dies!"

"Ah… an unfortunate truth," the Black Seraph said regretfully. "The Crown does require a certain number of jewels from Diemons that have achieved Apotheosis for it to properly function. While incomplete D-formers, as you called them, do provide extra power – and I will happily continue to accept them – I also sadly require a number of fully matured D-formers to activate the Crown. To that end… I am sorry to say that, unless you can provide an alternative – which I will happily entertain – sacrifices must be made."

"The tagline of every tyrant in history," J.J. snapped. "You don't seem to be trying very hard to find that alternative."

"Once the Crown has been fully activated, I assure you that such sacrifices will not have been in vain. And I believe that those who gave their lives achieving their dreams lived their lives to the fullest, even if they were cut short, which is more than most can say. We all must die one day, so why not die knowing one has achieved their dream?" the Black Seraph said calmly. J.J.'s eyes widened, feeling anger starting to burn in his chest, especially when Kelsie briefly flashed in his mind.

"And what do you intend to do with the Crown once it's fully activated?" J.J. growled. "What's your noble end goal that'll make all this worth it?"

"Happiness," the Black Seraph replied vaguely. "Happiness for everyone. The fruition of King Domitius' dream."

"Agnar seems to think you'll restore Almencia," J.J. commented. "So, are you lying to him?"

"No. I shall restore Almencia. As it was meant to be," the Black Seraph replied. It was such a cryptic response that J.J. felt chills run down his spine. However, he suspected that he wasn't going to get clearer answers from the dark angel, so he decided to switch topics.

"You still haven't answered my question," J.J. said, turning his gaze on the White Seraph, who flinched as he looked at her. "Where do you fit in all this? Do you want the Crown too?"

Gwen looked up, shaking her head vigorously. "No! At least, not the way he does! All I want is to stop him from enacting whatever insane plan he has in mind!"

"How?" J.J. asked.

"Well… I was hoping you'd become stronger…." the White Seraph said hesitantly, once again looking away from him.

"If you wanted that, you could have just relied on Tristan," J.J. pointed out, frowning as he folded his arms over his chest. "He's a lot stronger than I am."

"But he wasn't available at the time! I didn't know he had awoken when I found you!" the White Seraph protested. "And besides, look at how much your own powers have grown!"

"Precisely," the Black Seraph interjected, shooting his sister a sidelong look. "And that's what you were hoping for. But not to have him defeat me," he added with a chuckle. "You'd already decided that was impossible. Why don't you tell him your real intention in giving him his own D-former?"

"I…." the White Seraph hesitated. When she didn't answer, the Black Seraph turned his attention back to J.J.

"Unlike my jewels, my sister's gems have less… dramatic effects on those that possess them. However, they can still store energy, even if one isn't actively using them. In fact, given enough time, they can store more energy than several of my own gems can hold, even upon achieving Apotheosis. What's more, the rare person who can use her jewels will experience their mutation – if they experience it at all – far more slowly, meaning that they have much more time to store energy."

J.J. tilted his head, processing the information. Then, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he slowly turned to glare at the White Seraph, livid. "Then… you intended to use the single D-former that you gave me to power the crown instead," J.J. said, his voice a low growl.

"Ah, he _is_ a clever one," the Black Seraph remarked. "He caught onto that far more quickly than I had expected. Correct," he said, glancing at his sister, who turned away. "She was hoping that your jewel would be enough to power the crown on its own, and if she could use it before I gained enough completed D-formers, she would gain control of it for herself." The Seraph shook his head sadly. "From the start, you were nothing more than a disposable pawn to her, my friend."

J.J. felt his hands trembling with fury as he looked over at the White Seraph, who was still looking away. He wanted her to refute the Black Seraph, to tell him that he was being lied to. Her silence, however, was all the confirmation he needed that her brother was speaking the truth. "And what then?" he asked curtly. "I was near death when you gave me my own jewel. Would taking my D-former back kill me?"

"It's likely, yes," the Black Seraph replied, before his sister could respond. "She was willing to sacrifice your life if it meant stopping me."

"Because you need to be stopped!" the White Seraph shouted suddenly, rounding on her brother, who simply gazed at her passively. "J.J., you have to understand, this was for the greater good-!"

"Don't," J.J. growled softly. The White Seraph went silent, her shoulders slumping. Even though her face was hidden behind a mask, he felt that she was looking at him with a pleading look. J.J., however, refused to acknowledge it. "That doesn't matter now," he added, turning his attention back to the Black Seraph. "I don't care why she gave me this power. I'm the one who decides how I use it. And to me, that means stopping you. My own way," he added, injecting a bit of confidence into his last statement.

"J.J…." the White Seraph murmured. J.J. shot her a glare from behind his mask, and she shied away from his look. The Black Seraph, meanwhile, raised his chin slightly, seeming amused by J.J.'s declaration.

"Indeed? Interesting," he said simply.

"Alright, enough!" a barking voice shouted, drawing the trio's attention back to the blink dog, which was now snarling at the Black Seraph. "I don't care about any of this! All I care about is my family's necklace! _Tell me where it is_!"

"Ah, yes. My apologies," the Black Seraph said, bowing politely to the blink dog. "As I stated, I do indeed have it, and I'll return it to you, if that's truly all you desire. You must forgive me for not doing so earlier, but I needed to encourage your jewel – your D-former, as our friend there calls it – to mature. Now it seems as though it's nearly ready, and I can present you with what you believe was wrongfully stolen." Suddenly, the Black Seraph seemed thoughtful. "Yet… perhaps it needs a bit more time. And your comment about facing me directly has me intrigued, Mr. Wells. I'd like to propose a challenge," he said, turning his gaze back to J.J., who scowled.

"And why should I accept?" J.J. snarled.

"You're free to refuse, of course. In which case, I'll simply return our friend's necklace to them, and they will likely achieve Apotheosis, at which point I'll retrieve my jewel. If you're truly comfortable with having another's fate decided by me when you could have intervened, then I'll happily facilitate that conclusion."

"Bastard," J.J. snarled. However, the Black Seraph essentially had him by the throat, so he reluctantly added. "What're you suggesting?"

"Tomorrow I will simultaneously reveal the location of the necklace to you both. Whomever retrieves it first can do with it as they please. For you, my friend, it will be a chance to retrieve what was taken from you, bloodlessly, and using the powers you were given, just like you wanted. You'll right the wrong done to your family if you succeed," the Black Seraph said to the blink dog, before turning to J.J. "And as for you… I'd very much like to see if you indeed possess the skills necessary to face me," the Black Seraph chuckled.

"…Fine. But you'd better not renege on your promise," the blink dog warned the Black Seraph, who turned his golden face towards the Diemon.

"You have my word," the Seraph replied, bowing his head. "After all, I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed. I sincerely hope that you achieve your goal, my friend." The blink dog stared at the black angel, before growling softly to itself. J.J. briefly considered attacking the Diemon while he had the chance and its health was low, but before he could act on that thought, it vanished again. The Black Seraph pinned J.J. with his gaze, clearly warning him not to go after the Diemon. J.J. hesitated, but reluctantly relaxed, at which point the Black Seraph straightened up, seeming mollified.

"As I said, be prepared tomorrow. Rest up tonight… and good luck," the Black Seraph said, before pausing and glancing over at his sister. "In the meantime, I'm sure you both have quite a bit to discuss. Until then."

In a flash of feathers, the Black Seraph disappeared, leaving J.J. and the White Seraph alone on the roof. J.J. slowly turned to stare at her, while the angel continued to avoid his gaze. They remained silent like that for several long moments, until the sound of armor clanging on metal drew their attention. Both glanced over to the fire escape to see Tristan climbing up it, his shield slung over his back, panting from his exertions.

"At last! I was worried that I would not reconvene with y-" Tristan began, but his sentence was suddenly cut off as he caught sight of the White Seraph standing nearby. Wordlessly, he unslung his shield, and J.J.'s eyes widened as he saw Tristan reaching for one of his weapons on his shield. He dashed forward just as Tristan got his mace out, and he caught Tristan under the arm, holding him in place.

"Hang on!" J.J. shouted.

"Do not hinder me, page!" Tristan snapped. "I'll not suffer this abomination's presence! For that matter, why are you not engaging it yourself?!"

"That's Gwen!" J.J. said. Tristan froze for a moment, before turning to stare at J.J. with a look that clearly indicated that he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Have you gone mad, page?" Tristan asked softly. "Was it the Diemon? Have you been placed under some illusion that-"

J.J. glanced over at the White Seraph, scowling behind his mask. "You wanna maybe show him before he tries to bash your skull in?" he snapped.

The White Seraph looked up, before nodding silently. She was engulfed in a white light again, forcing both Riders to look away for a moment. When the light faded, Gwen was once more standing on the rooftop, looking wan and pale in the bright moonlight. Tristan stared at her in utter shock as J.J. started to relax his hold on the blue-armored knight.

"What trick is this?" Tristan whispered.

J.J. sighed and went over a brief recap of everything that had happened up to that point, while Gwen stood with her hands folded in front of her, silently staring at the ground. Tristan allowed J.J. to say his piece, and when he finished, he looked down, as if considering J.J.'s revelations.

"…That changes nothing," Tristan said finally, bringing his mace up again. "Even if what you say is true, it only makes the task of dispatching one of the Seraphs that much simpler."

"Are you an idiot?" J.J. snapped, stepping between Tristan and Gwen, holding his sword up defensively. "It changes _everything_."

"…Do not point your blade at me, page," Tristan warned him in a low growl. "My task is to avenge my people, and-"

"I'm pretty sure your task is to take out the Black Seraph," J.J. interrupted. "He's the main threat right now. The White Seraph hasn't been creating Diemons."

"They both pose threats," Tristan countered. "Particularly to you, if what you have told me is true."

"Alright, and what if you do manage to beat her?" J.J. asked. "My powers are tied directly to her. If you kill her, what if you cut off my powers? Do you really want to try taking on the Black Seraph without any help?"

Tristan hesitated, looking down. J.J. could see him trembling with anger, but his logic was difficult for Tristan to refute. "You would defend her?" he asked in a low voice. "Even knowing she intended to sacrifice your life for her schemes?"

"I still need her power if I'm going to help you," J.J. said. "So, yeah, I'm staying my blade for now. Even though I have a far more personal reason to be upset than you do," he reminded his partner. Tristan looked up suddenly, noting the fury in J.J.'s voice. The knight considered J.J.'s request, before softly sighing and pulling his D-former from his belt, canceling his transformation in a shower of steel-blue fractals.

"I too shall stay my hand for now, then," Tristan said reluctantly.

"Thank you, J.J.," Gwen said softly behind him. J.J. suddenly spun around, his eyes burning with anger, and Gwen flinched under his furious glare.

"You're not off the hook!" he snapped. Gwen meekly looked up at him, before nodding quickly. J.J. turned back around to face Tristan, letting out his breath in a long, slow hiss. "I'm going to play the Black Seraph's game, since it's still our best chance at catching the blink dog. Do you think you could let me handle this one?"

"I am loath to allow it," Tristan admitted. "The Black Seraph seems the sort to ensure that he emerges victorious regardless of the circumstances. If you are allowing him to set the terms for your duel with the Diemon…."

"Normally I'd agree, but in this case, I really think he wants us on even footing," J.J. replied. "He's not doing this to gain an advantage by isolating you and I from each other. He's testing me. He wants to see my capabilities in a controlled environment, and if he wants proper results, he can't fix the game. I'm willing to play by his rules this time since they're the fairest we're likely to get. Otherwise, I expect he would have just sent the Fool or Agnar after us. So long as we do it this way, we're walking the path of least resistance."

"Or he may be sending you along a carefully constructed path that appears clear, but might be laden with traps," Tristan warned him.

"Fair point. But I'm not being irrational about this, and I'm aware of the danger," J.J. assured him. "Despite that, I want to give it a shot."

"…Very well, page," Tristan said after a moment's hesitation. "Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to find the Diemon. If we can dispatch it, it renders the Black Seraph's scheme moot, and you needn't put yourself in danger unnecessarily."

"Sure," J.J. said. "That's a good idea, actually."

"In the meantime, I would recommend you spend tomorrow preparing for your upcoming trial. Remain wary," he added, shooting Gwen a cold look. "As tonight has proven, you cannot be sure of what you can trust anymore."

"Yeah… you're not wrong. Thanks, Tristan," J.J. said.

"No need to thank me, page. Tis my duty, after all," Tristan said, inclining his head in a slight bow. He shot Gwen one last glare before walking to the edge of the building and climbing down the ladder of the fire escape. J.J. listened quietly as the sounds of the knight making his way down the metal staircase faded, leaving J.J. and Gwen alone on the roof.

J.J. silently dropped his gloved hand down to his diary, pulling his amber D-former out of the slot in the center of it, and a spiderweb of amber light spread across his suit before it disappeared in a shower of amber fragments. He made his way slowly over to Gwen, who was still looking away from him. When he was a few feet from her, he stared at her quietly until she finally raised her head to meet his steely gaze.

"Walk with me," J.J. said bluntly, turning on his heel and making his way towards the door leading back into the bar. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit as he walked, with Gwen following at his heels. The only sounds for a while were their shoes crunching across the gravel. J.J. spent the walk gathering his thoughts, and when he finally spoke again, it was in a low, dangerously quiet voice.

"How much of what the Black Seraph said was true?" he asked.

Gwen was silent for several moments, the question still hanging in the air when they emerged into the shattered remains of the empty bar. She only answered when J.J. turned to look at her over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes, at which point she flinched. "The… details weren't all true," she murmured evasively.

"Gwen!" J.J. shouted, rounding on her, at which point she flinched away from him. "Was what he said true?! Were you just using me to incubate a D-former?!"

Gwen bit her bottom lip, before slowly looking up. "I was hoping that you would grow stronger," she said finally. "And in conjunction with you growing stronger, the D-former would do the same."

"And when you took it back, would it have killed me?" J.J. growled.

Gwen swallowed, opening her mouth, before closing it, and then opening it again. "I don't know for sure. It… it might have," she admitted. "I was hoping it wouldn't, but… I was willing to accept it if it did. At least that's better than what my brother's doing, though!" she cried, trying desperately to justify herself.

J.J. stared at her, his eyes burning with anger, but then his shoulders slumped. "Why me?" he asked softly, no longer shouting, simply sounding exasperated, defeated. "Why the hell did you decide I was going to be your sacrificial lamb? Why not anyone else?"

"It's not like I was grooming you to be my choice," Gwen admitted quietly. "Honestly, it was a coincidence."

"Oh, I'm so glad that it wasn't personal!" J.J. snapped, anger creeping into his voice again.

"I saved your life!" Gwen pointed out. "If I hadn't come along and given you your D-former, you would've been killed by Ryan when he was on his rampage!"

"Yeah, thank you so much for saving my life just so that you could take it away later!" J.J. replied bitingly. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "You still haven't answered my question, though."

"I… when I saw that you were injured… I figured that you would grasp any chance to survive. Plus, I knew you were the type who wanted to earn your achievements without anyone else's help, and that made you a perfect candidate for one of my D-formers. As I've told you, I can only give my D-formers to someone who doesn't want to change who they are. The answer you gave me, that you were fine with who you are, was perfect. I've only heard it one other time… and even then, _his_ answer's meaning was very different from yours," she added, frowning faintly at some memory.

"Okay, but you couldn't have known that I was going to use it to fight Ryan," J.J. pointed out. "And you certainly couldn't have predicted that I'd keep using it."

"No. But… my brother and I have been playing this game for a very long time," Gwen replied. "As such, we're both patient. Even if you had done nothing but kept the jewel, it would have slowly accumulated energy – without hurting you, mind you. As my brother has pointed out, my jewels don't usually turn a person into a Diemon, unless that's explicitly something they want," she added. "Very few people want to become a monster."

"That's still a stupid plan," J.J. retorted. "If I didn't have this diary – if I couldn't transform – I still probably would have been killed by Ryan, or any of the other Diemons, which would have made your plan moot. Plus, what if your brother's Diemons had achieved Apotheosis with no one to stop them?"

"I was also hoping Tristan would play his part," Gwen replied. "I didn't know at the time that his Driver was broken, so I was assuming the battle from a thousand years ago would play out the same way. Since you also had a D-former this time, I was hoping I would also be able to prevent my brother from using the Crown of Almencia by using a jewel of my own as a substitute. That was, of course, assuming he even could reforge the Crown, which I had thought would be impossible since so much knowledge about alchemy has been lost. I was hoping that it wouldn't even be an issue. But, since my brother was creating Diemons again, I was worried that he might have found a way to start remaking the Crown, so I thought it would be a good idea to have a jewel of my own to use in case he did. From there, all I'd have to do is take the crown myself and use my own jewel to power it before he could."

"So basically, I was just a side bet," J.J. snarled. "Why even use us as proxies to begin with? Why not just take care of him yourself? It's clear that you and your brother are both extremely powerful, and you claim to care about the lives of others, so why involve anyone else in your private war?"

"Neither of us can attack anyone, including each other," Gwen replied. "It was how our father designed us, so that we couldn't incite violence. It was meant as a protective measure."

"Well, that worked out really well, considering you both found loopholes around your programming. I'm so glad that you can't hurt anyone physically. Let's just ignore the thousands that've been hurt in your proxy war instead," J.J. snarled. He then sighed and buried his face in his hand. "Let me ask you something. Did you ever even care about me? As a person, not just as another piece on the board? Or was this relationship you set up just one more thing to let you keep convenient tabs on me?"

"No, of course I like you!" Gwen cried. By this point they were standing in the center of the shattered bar, surrounded by the remains of the battle, with broken bottles, wood, and liquor littering the floor.

"How am I supposed to believe that?" J.J. replied coldly. "You've been lying to me this entire time, so what's one more lie on top of everything else? Hell, you're just an alchemical construct, right? Are you even capable of feeling emotion?"

Gwen stepped back, looking as if he'd just smacked her. "That's not fair," she whispered, seeming honestly hurt.

"Oh, I'm so sorry that I'm not being fair!" J.J. shouted, standing over her. "I should really take your feelings into greater consideration, especially since you've been _so_ compassionate and forthcoming about the importance my _own_ life!"

Gwen winced, looking down again. "I get that you're upset and angry with me," she murmured. "But as I said, my brother and I have been playing this game for a very long time. While I'm fond of you, I also have to consider everyone's place in this war, and that requires a certain amount of detachment."

"So, you just think of me as a playing piece in a real life game of chess, to be moved and sacrificed as necessary," J.J. snapped.

"I think of everyone as just a playing piece. Myself most of all," Gwen said. Her tone was so melancholy that a spike of pity cut through his anger for a moment, though that feeling quickly faded.

"Gwen… why didn't you just tell me this from the beginning?" J.J. asked, exasperated. "If you'd shown me your Seraph form, I would've believed you."

"Would you have really been okay with me asking you to sacrifice your life, especially before you'd experienced the war firsthand?" Gwen pointed out.

"Of course not. And I'm still not," J.J. replied shortly. "But we could have worked together to try and figure out some other way to deal with your brother and the threat that he poses."

"You really don't know what you're talking about," Gwen sighed. "I told you that my brother and I weren't allowed to attack humans, but that doesn't mean we can't defend ourselves. You can't defeat Agnar, and my brother in the past was stronger than Agnar is now; worse, Blake's gotten even stronger than he was when we were in Almencia, so fighting him now would practically be suicide."

"Yeah? Well, considering that my other option is to give you my D-former and likely _literally_ commit suicide, I'd rather take my chances and go down swinging," J.J. replied sharply.

"Is that why you accepted my brother's terms for this test he has set up for you?" Gwen asked quietly.

"No. Right now, I'm just focused on saving one person who's being strung along by the Black Seraph and destroying the D-former he gave them," J.J. replied simply. "That's really all I can do right now."

Gwen smiled faintly. "That's so like you," she said softly. Then she almost turned shy. "With that said… after all this… where does that leave us?" she asked quietly.

J.J. regarded her silently for several long moments, before looking down at the ruined marble floor. "I won't tell anyone else about what you really are," he said softly. "That's your choice to disclose, not mine. So long as you don't try to hurt anyone in this city, what you are doesn't matter to me as much as who you are."

Gwen's ice-blue eyes widened, and she slowly looked up at him, her expression full of hope. "Then…?" she whispered.

"Because of that, because of how you've lied to me… I can't trust you. And I'm not going to be with someone I can't trust," J.J. finished, the words feeling as heavy as lead as they left his lips. Gwen's hopeful expression immediately melted, replaced by one of despair. "If you want to help Tristan and I fight your brother, then you can help. But since you insist on seeing this war like a chessboard, I'll just consider you one more piece on our side. Personally, however, you and I… we're done," he finished quietly.

Gwen's eyes began to fill with tears, but J.J. ignored her sorrowful look. For all he knew, she was just crying crocodile tears, using her alchemy to will water to pour from her eyes. "J.J…!" she choked out, her voice breaking slightly.

"I need to prepare for your brother's challenge," J.J. said, turning on his heel and walking towards the door, his back now turned completely towards her. "If you need something regarding that, you have my number. Otherwise, don't bother me. Goodbye…." J.J. paused briefly, considering whether he should address her by her title, before finally deciding, "…Gwen."

Behind him, he heard Gwen sob, accompanied by the sound of her slumping to the floor. J.J. ignored the stinging in the corner of his eyes as he walked out the door, leaving her alone in the ruined bar.

* * *

The next day seemed to pass both too quickly and too slowly. J.J. spent most of his time in Gary's tavern, sipping sports drinks while furiously typing on his computer. He was projecting an air that clearly indicated that he wanted to be left alone, so no one came near him, except for Gary, who occasionally asked him if he wanted something to eat as well. J.J. finally accepted a plain turkey sandwich around noon, but otherwise simply focused on his work, ignoring everything else around him.

Every five minutes, he checked the clock on his laptop, feeling a wave of unease wash over him each time he glanced at it. Anxiety kept building in him, as well as a paranoia that he would miss the Black Seraph's summons. What made it worse was the fact that he had no idea how the start of the challenge would be announced – whether it would be delivered by one of the Seraph's minions, if he'd see news about an attack on his feed, or even if a trained pigeon was going to fly into the tavern and deliver a sealed letter announcing the start of the challenge.

"You doing okay there?" Gary finally asked around four in the afternoon. J.J. glanced up at him over the rim of his computer, frowning faintly. "I haven't seen you act like this since that Kelsie girl died."

"Mm. I'm not hurting as badly as I was during that episode," J.J. admitted. "Just trying to focus on something other than my problems."

"Want to talk about it?" Gary asked. "You don't have to do this alone."

"Thanks, but I've got too much on my mind right now," J.J. replied shortly. "And I don't want to be distracted."

"Gotcha," Gary said, then tilted his head thoughtfully. "If you don't want to talk to me about it, maybe I could give Gwen a call. I'm sure-"

"No!" J.J. said flatly, feeling his stomach clenching at the mention of Gwen's name, and he winced slightly at the sensation. Gary raised an eyebrow, but J.J. ignored his bewildered expression. "Seriously, this is something I need to work through on my own. And I damn sure can't rely on her help," he added, unable to suppress a slight growl.

"I see…." Gary replied slowly, gingerly picking up J.J.'s empty glass. "If that's the case, I'm here to talk if you need to…."

"Thanks," J.J. said, a slight edge creeping into his voice, trying to indicate that he wanted to be left alone.

Gary hovered over him a moment longer, only departing when J.J. finally shot a glare at him. When he was left alone, however, he sighed and buried his face in his hands, trying to fight off the panic attack threatening to creep over him. It took a few long moments, but the aching sensation in his chest gradually dissipated when he forced himself to focus on his story, rather than his upcoming challenge or the subject of Gwen.

A few moments later, however, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. J.J. glanced out the window to see a red-haired man with a bushy beard peering into the tavern warily. He seemed vaguely familiar, and it took J.J. a moment to realize who it was. Scowling, he closed his laptop and put it in his bag, leaving money on the table for Gary, before walking out the door wordlessly. Rounding the corner, he nodded curtly to Agnar, who was standing near the street corner, attracting a few stares due to the bright blue tunic he was wearing.

When he saw J.J. approaching him, Agnar's face settled into a glare that matched J.J.'s. He reached into a bag at his hip and withdrew a scroll, sealed with wax, which he held out to J.J., who took the paper and ran his thumb along the seal.

"My lord's instructions detailing your challenge," Agnar said brusquely.

J.J. glanced at the scroll, before looking up and narrowing his eyes at the knight. "He's got you playing messenger now? What, did you get demoted or something?"

"I serve my lord in any capacity that he requires of me. It is an honor to serve as his herald," Agnar replied, letting J.J.'s taunt roll off of him. "I would suggest that you depart immediately. Your opponent has already received their instructions."

As Agnar turned to leave, J.J. piped up, "You know, he's lying to you."

The knight froze in place, before slowly turning, his eyes burning with fury. "I beg your pardon, _peasant_?" he spat.

"The Black Seraph isn't going to restore Almencia. At least not in the way you want," J.J. repeated, folding his arms over his chest.

Agnar closed the distance between them in four steps. While J.J. was a head taller, he couldn't help but feel that Agnar was towering over him in that moment. The knight certainly knew how to intimidate, he thought wryly.

"Consider yourself fortunate that the terms of your challenge stipulate that I am not permitted to interfere in any capacity," Agnar said in a low voice. "Were that not explicitly stated, I would have removed your head from your shoulders for daring to slander my lord."

"I'm not slandering him, though. What guarantee do you have that he's going to carry through with his promise?" J.J. pointed out.

"He swore on my honor that he would restore Almencia," Agnar stated firmly. "I would not expect a mere peasant to understand the weight of such an oath."

"He swore on your honor, or his?" J.J. retorted.

Agnar's eyes bulged. "You dare-?!" he started to roar.

"Look, all I'm saying is that we know the Seraphs can lie. The White one has been lying to me for months now," he added, his voice turning frosty. He glanced away for a second to dispel the sharp stab in his chest before turning his attention back to Agnar, giving him a pointed look. "What's to say the Black Seraph can't do the same?"

Agnar was quiet for a few moments, then spun on his heel. "I have delivered your challenge, peasant. I would see to it immediately, unless you wish to forfeit. My lord would certainly welcome an uncontested Apotheosis," he added, giving J.J. a pointed look of his own before he walked around the corner and out of sight.

J.J. sighed, muttering under his breath, "Stubborn idiot." He shook his head, then took a moment to glance around and make sure there was no one in sight. Once he was sure he was alone, he grabbed his diary out of his pocket and flipped it open to his stats page before holding it up to his cheek.

"Henshin!" he called out, and his Driver appeared around his waist. He snapped his diary shut and slotted it into his belt in one fluid motion. He then spun the amber D-former in the center of the cover.

" **Adventure: Begin!"** his Driver shouted, and as trumpets began blaring, he was engulfed in an amber die, which spun around him rapidly as he was covered in brown leather armor. Once the spinning stopped, he glanced down at his belt, pulling his diary out of it again as he sprinted to his motorcycle. His diary was already buzzing, indicating that the blink dog was active as well and no doubt making a beeline for their destination. Fortunately, he thought with a wry smile, he probably could out-race the dog.

J.J. turned the engine on, and as soon as it roared to life, he took off down the street, immediately turning onto the highway, before glancing down at his diary to see how close the blink dog was. The Seraph had decided that the stage for their contest would be the Old Marville Clock Tower, a decrepit structure that had once been a church and timepiece for the residents of Old Marville before it had fallen into disrepair. Now, it was just as ramshackle and worn down as the rest of the district. J.J. could only imagine that the Seraph had chosen that location because it was out of the way. Apparently, he was holding to his word that he wanted to minimize casualties, he thought wryly.

Once J.J. crossed the bridge leading to the Old Marville district, he noticed people were starting to run the opposite direction from where he was heading. Moments later, he saw the reason why. A horde of Shards were chasing after the citizens, though none of them were attacking. It looked to J.J. more like they were just trying to clear the area. Part of him was grateful, but even if they weren't attacking now… J.J. held his hand out, and his quill flew into his palm. He clicked it into its sword form as he charged towards the crowd of Shards. As soon as they saw him, they dropped into battle stances. J.J. grit his teeth as he sped up, one hand gripping the handlebars and the other holding his sword tightly as he closed in on the first Shard.

The monster swung its crystalline claws, but J.J. slashed at it before it could connect, cutting through its arm. He didn't kill it, but it was left staring blankly at its stump of a wrist. He then weaved away from the spear point of another Shard and into the waiting arms of a third, which he simply ran over, revving his engine and powering through it. Thankfully, his bike was stable enough to remain upright and maintain most of its momentum, even though it did wobble precariously for a moment.

J.J. weaved his bike to the side, avoiding one last Shard that took a slash at him with a sword-like arm, and then finally broke through the platoon of crystalline monsters, leaving him with a clear road ahead. The clock tower and church loomed in his sight, and he hit the accelerator, speeding towards his destination. He skidded to a halt in the parking lot and looked up, his heart sinking at the sight looming above him.

The Black and White Seraph stood on opposite ends of the church, the former perched on top of the clock tower like a monstrous vulture, while the latter was sitting on the sloped shale roof of the church. Between them, the Fool bounced lazily from one leg to the other. A beautiful silver necklace studded with emeralds swung from his fingers, immediately catching J.J.'s attention. Before he could react, however, the blink dog suddenly materialized, swiping at the necklace. The Fool let out a gleeful cackle as it bounced out of the way.

"Oooh, so close that time!" the clown giggled. "So pretty, isn't it? Still, we're not convinced you truly want it! You need to jump higher than that!"

"Give me my necklace!" the blink dog howled, leaping at the clown and snapping its jaws. The Fool, however, simply placed its foot gently on the dog's snout and launched off, executing several tight flips in the air before landing gently on a nearby power line, still cackling. It then spotted J.J., and its laughter grew even more raucous.

"The second actor is late to the performance!" the Fool announced, turning the attention of both Seraphs to the latest arrival. "Shame, usually it's so punctual!"

"Ah, Kamen Rider Page. Welcome," the Black Seraph said with a gracious bow of his head. J.J. grit his teeth as he stepped off his bike and stalked towards the base of the church, looking up at the pair of angels.

"What the hell is this?!" he barked. His attention snapped towards the White Seraph, and he shouted, "What, are you working with him now or something? Why're you just sitting there?"

"Calm down," the Black Seraph said smoothly, holding up a hand as his sister shrank away from J.J. slightly. "Much as I'd like her to, no, my sister is still firmly opposed to me. In this instance, we're both merely observing this trial, and neither of us intend to interfere."

J.J. glared up at the pair, but upon realizing that there wasn't really anything he could do about it, he sighed and folded his arms over his chest. "Fine. What're the rules for this thing?" he asked bitterly.

"Simple. They're the same rules that you've been abiding for the past several months," the Black Seraph said airily. "Do whatever is required to minimize or mitigate my victory. I merely wish to see what you consider a victory."

J.J. let out a low hiss of anger and frustration. So, this was all just an opportunity for the Seraph to see his strengths and weaknesses firsthand. As such, he thought to himself, it was in his best interest to let the angel learn as little about him as possible.

Before he could consider his next move, the blink dog launched itself at the Fool, jaws open. The Fool bounced on the power lines like a trampoline, launching itself into the air and landing lightly on a nearby lamppost. The blink dog disappeared, reappearing inches from the Fool, with its forward momentum still propelling it after its teleportation. Even the Fool was caught off-guard, and it barely managed to sway out of the way in time, though the blink dog's claws raked its arm, opening a gash in its colorful clothing. The harlequin quietly examined the wound before letting out a howl of laughter and clapping its hands.

"Oooh, what fun! How clever! That was a good trick!" it crowed gleefully. Glancing down at J.J., it added, "It should be careful! At this rate, it'll lose before its performance even begins!"

J.J. grit his teeth, watching the blink dog as it prowled under the streetlight, acting like it had just treed a cat. He lowered his sword slightly and began walking towards it cautiously, holding his hands up as it snapped its golden eyes towards him.

"Relax," he said softly. "I don't want to fight you."

"Oh, sure, _now_ you don't want to fight," the dog snapped. "After chasing me all over the city, now that _you're_ backed into a corner, you're not interested in fighting. I don't care, though. So long as I can get that necklace, that's all that matters."

"Why?" J.J. asked in a quiet, soothing voice. "I know you said that necklace belonged to your mother, but why's it so important to you? What's your name?"

The dog hesitated, before straightening up and standing on its back legs. "Fine. I'll humor you," it growled. "My name is Esmeralda Mercado. That necklace represents my family's hope. We came to this country a few years ago with very little to our name. That necklace belonged to my great-grandmother, and my mother sold it in the hopes that it would provide us enough money to get us started in this country. The person we sold it to was Blake Marks, who promised us that he would pay us fifty thousand dollars for it."

"And he reneged on his deal?" J.J. asked, slowly frowning up at the Black Seraph. "That sounds out of character for him. As much as I hate to admit it, the one thing I can say about him is that he does fulfill his end of his bargains. Even if it's not in the way you want," he added, glaring up at the Seraph.

"Oh, we received the money," Esmeralda said in a low voice. "But four days later, it was stolen from us. When the police tracked him down, he had already fled the country. And we were told that he was working for Blake Marks."

J.J. blinked from behind his helmet, slowly looking up at the Black Seraph, who continued to gaze down at the pair with his hands folded in front of him. The angel tilted his head, seeming thoughtful.

"It's obvious what happened!" Esmeralda continued, her voice turning hysterical. "You paid off that guy who stole our money to get it back so that you wouldn't lose anything for the necklace! While you just had to pay whatever that thief requested, we were left with nothing! So now, I'm going to get it back so my family can pay off our debts and get the proper start that we were denied!"

"A bank account being stolen from… ah… I remember, that was…!" The Black Seraph trailed off, tapping a pale finger against the chin of his mask as J.J. looked up at him curiously, while Esmeralda's own eyes widened with fury. However, the angel chuckled, shaking his head. "Regardless, you're correct in directing your ire towards me," he continued, folding his hands in front of him again. "Ultimately, yes, you could say it was my fault that your family has suffered."

Esmeralda snarled ferally, raising her hackles. J.J., however, held up his hand as he said softly, "Look… I understand your anger. There are few things I despise more than being cheated out of what's rightfully yours. But if you take that necklace, you'll become a monster, and there'll be no going back from that."

"I don't care!" Esmeralda snapped. "If I can set my family up with the money they deserve, then I'm willing to make that sacrifice!"

J.J. shook his head, raising his sword. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that."

" _Let_ me? You won't be able to _stop_ me!" Esmeralda cried. She disappeared again, appearing inches from the Fool, who leaped into the air again. J.J. hesitated as he watched the clown, his eyes fixating on the swinging necklace. The blink dog and the Fool were both far faster than he was, and if he tried to attack the Fool, he'd get smacked around. The best chance he had to win was to get that necklace. But to do that….

J.J. dropped his hand down to his blue D-former and gave it a spin. **"Reroll! Class: Thief!"** his Driver shouted, and a saxophone began playing a smooth, crooning tune as he was surrounded by a blue sapphire, which spun around him rapidly. His leather armor split during his transformation, and when the spinning stopped, he was wearing a dark blue jacket, with the scarf around his neck fluttering in the breeze. However, he didn't jump into the fray immediately, instead crouching down and watching the game of tag going on in the air above him.

J.J. had consulted his diary earlier, trying to find a weakness in Esmeralda's Diemon form. While his diary did note her teleportation, it couldn't give him specifics, particularly when he had asked about distance or frequency. Thus, he quietly watched her, and when she disappeared next, he began counting under his breath. After eight seconds had passed, she teleported again, trying to get behind the Fool, who simply put his hand on her head and pushed off again. J.J. then began counting under his breath again, counting to ten, before she teleported once more, this time blinking on top of a roof where it seemed the Fool would land. When he was about to reach the edge of the roof, however, he simply let himself fall, sliding down the wall while cackling, before pushing off into the air again while Esmeralda screamed in frustration. Two seconds later, she teleported again, the fastest teleport she'd had up to that point.

While he wasn't absolutely sure that his hypothesis was correct, he was at least confident that Esmeralda had to wait a couple seconds between jumps, which gave him enough time to carry out his plan. The Fool landed on the ground beside J.J., dangling the pendant in front of his eyes while giggling. "Has it given up already?" the clown taunted him. "If it's not going to play, we might just give this bauble to her and say she wins by default. We're sure the master wouldn't mind. He wants a proper show more than we do, after all, and if it's not going to perform…!"

J.J. ignored the clown, not bothering to make a grab for the necklace. In fact, the closer he was, the better. Esmeralda hissed under her breath, disappearing again and reappearing near J.J., her claws outstretched as the clown leaned back. As soon as she reappeared, J.J. suddenly spun his D-former.

" **Critical!"** his Driver shouted, a blue die appearing around him and spinning briefly before shrinking and moving towards one of his daggers, where it spread across the surface of the blade, coating it in a shimmering cobalt force field. Esmeralda glanced at him in time to see him throw the dagger at her, and she yelped as she tried to lean out of the way. She was too slow, however, and the blade scraped across her ribs, opening a shallow gash in her fur as sparks exploded against her chest. She grunted and dropped to one knee, holding her side, but then she pulled her hand away and smirked at J.J., baring her sharp canines at him.

"You missed," she growled. A moment later, however, her eyes widened, and she dropped to one knee, gasping, as the poison began to numb her body. J.J. noted privately that it was taking effect far more quickly than past uses of that Critical. Perhaps it was another sign he was getting stronger, he mused wryly.

The Fool, meanwhile, tutted and shook his head. "Taking your opponent out of the fight? That's not very sporting. What fun is a game if one of the players-?"

J.J. interrupted the Fool by putting his hand on the blue D-former again and giving it another spin, this time in the opposite direction. **"Critical!"** his Driver shouted again, and this time, as the sapphire gem began spinning around him, he faded from view. The Fool stopped talking, eyeing the area warily before leaping into the air. J.J. followed him, counting down the seconds under his breath while sticking close to the Fool. He still didn't make a grab for the necklace, however, as he expected that as soon as the Fool felt him reaching for it, he would be countered. As soon as the Fool landed, J.J. did the same, just as his Critical ran out. He reappeared right next to the Fool, who let out a startled cry and began to jump again. Before he could, however, J.J. gave both his red and blue D-formers a spin, while still standing mere inches from the clown.

" **Reroll! Multiclass: Ranger!"** his Driver shouted, and a hunting horn resounded through the area as a red and blue D-former coalesced around him to form a single emerald green die, which began spinning as his armor closed again and his scarf expanded to become a fluttering cloak. Once he felt the wooden bow in his hand, he leaped into the air again, taking advantage of the superior jumping abilities the Ranger Class offered him, while bringing his bow up to aim down the shaft of a hastily-created seed-arrow. As soon as his shot was lined up, he released the arrow, watching as it sliced through the air and slammed into the Fool's wrist. The clown let out a hiss of pain as its hand reflexively opened, dropping the necklace. J.J. landed on the ground and jumped again, snatching the necklace out of midair. As he landed, he turned towards Esmeralda, who was watching him with wide, intent eyes.

"Do you want to make a trade?" he asked, holding up the necklace. "I'll give you this in exchange for your D-former."

Esmeralda hesitated, considering her options, while J.J. waited with bated breath. To his disappointment, however, she slowly shook her head. "No… if I make that trade, Marks'll just take it back, and I won't have a way to keep it. I can't give up this power."

"Please?" J.J. entreated her. "I really don't want to have to resort to my other idea."

"What're you going to do, kill me?" Esmeralda sneered, dropping into a low crouch and flexing her claws, indicating to J.J. that the poison was wearing off. "You can't even touch me."

"Last chance," J.J. repeated. "Give up your D-former?"

"No!" Esmeralda shouted, before jumping at him. J.J. leaped into the air, waiting for Esmeralda to blink and follow him. As soon as she did, he turned to glance over his shoulder at where she had reappeared, at which point he swung his leg around, kicking her away, much to her surprise. J.J. landed gently on the ground again, sighing, while Esmeralda picked herself up, still growling.

"I'm sorry," he said, tossing the necklace into the air. Before anyone else could react, he drew another arrow and fired at the necklace at nearly point-blank range. A clear sound like a crystal bell being struck resounded through the air as the tip of his arrow shattered the central emerald, tearing through the necklace and ripping the silver links asunder. The Fool tilted his head while Esmeralda gaped at him, shocked.

"You… you destroyed…!" she gasped in a strangled voice.

"You said yourself that you were going to keep going after it," J.J. explained, looking at her regretfully. "And if you got your hands on it, you would have achieved Apotheosis, which would have been a death sentence for you – either I would have had to kill you, or the Black Seraph's lackies would have. This way, at least, you won't be able to achieve Apotheosis."

While Esmeralda continued to stare at him, dumbfounded, he noticed the White Seraph above her nodding slightly with what he assumed was approval, while the Black Seraph looked down with his arms folded. Their expressions brought a slight smile to his lips, until Esmeralda started growling furiously.

"That was my family's heirloom… my one chance to give us a better life!" she barked. "I'll kill you!"

"Well then, our part in this play is over!" the Fool cackled, jumping up to land next to its master on the roof. "We'll just watch the final dance."

J.J. ignored him as he readied himself for Esneralda, who launched herself at him with her claws outstretched and her jaws open. When she was inches from him, he dropped his hand to his diary and gave the red and black D-formers on his belt a spin.

" **Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!"** his Driver shouted, and Esmeralda slammed into a red and black gemstone that formed around him, which coalesced into a single silver jewel that rotated around him as a pipe organ began playing. His leather armor was replaced by a light grey tabard, under which his body became protected by a suit of silver chainmail, while his bow extended out to become an elegant halberd. When the spinning stopped, he held his halberd out in front of him, inviting her to attack him.

Instead of launching herself at him, Esmeralda took a surprisingly conservative approach, tentatively prowling around J.J. in a circle while growling at him, while J.J. kept his polearm pointed at her. She started to lean in, but swayed back as J.J. jabbed at her warningly. She hissed in annoyance, putting her claws on his blade. Before he could respond, she winked out of existence, appearing behind him and sinking her teeth into his shoulder. J.J. cried out, feeling the force of the bite, but the sturdy mail kept her teeth from sinking any deeper. He smiled to himself, slamming the butt of his halberd into Esmeralda's ribs, which made her yip in pain. Her grip on him dislodged, she staggered back, groaning in pain.

J.J. had picked Paladin Class specifically because he was expecting an all-out attack from her. She was too enraged to focus on anything else, and his lighter classes would have put him at a disadvantage, since they simply weren't fast enough to keep up with her teleportation. He had briefly considered Warrior Class, but he also realized that it was too slow and he would never hit her, so he was willing to trade a bit of power and defense for enough speed to at least react to her movements. This was going to be a battle of attrition, a slow, painful slugfest where he just had to outlast her. With that cheery thought in mind, he planted his feet and waited for her next attack.

Esmeralda disappeared again, and J.J. glanced over his shoulder. Seeing she wasn't there, he looked up and stepped back in time to avoid her falling on him, though her claws still raked his tabard. She then lunged in to close her teeth around his arm, but J.J. kicked her in the stomach before she could. With her staggering backward, he slashed at her viciously with his halberd, catching her in the arm and knocking her to the ground as sparks flew from the blow. Esmeralda growled, clambering up on all fours. J.J. held his halberd out in front of him, patiently waiting for her next move. She hesitated for a moment, and J.J. took the advantage, thrusting the point of his spear at her and catching her in the arm. He repeated the movement as she stepped back, removing one hand from the haft to gain some extra distance. When she scrambled back, he quickly pulled the polearm back just as she vanished again and reappeared to his right, where she bit his loose hand. Her teeth were again stopped by his mail-backed glove, though he yelled out as he felt her fangs sink into the less-protected fabric covering the front of his hand, opening up a deep puncture wound in his palm.

J.J. waved his hand with a hiss, trying to dispel some of the pain, while Esmeralda licked her lips. She lunged forward again, grabbing his halberd and trying to yank it from his grasp. J.J. swore under his breath, trying to close his hand around the haft of his weapon, gritting his teeth against the pain. When he realized he couldn't, he instead dropped his hand to his belt and gave the red and black D-formers another quick spin.

" **Critical!"** his Driver shouted, and a silver die appeared around him, knocking Esmeralda back. It coalesced around the head of his weapon, which began to glow silver-white, while J.J. grit his teeth and closed his weak hand around the halberd. Esmeralda's yellow eyes widened, and she disappeared, reappearing behind him a second later, her fangs aimed at his neck. J.J. spun around, swinging his halberd as he turned, and the head of the weapon collided savagely with Esmeralda's body. A glowing, silvery gash opened on her chest as she was sent hurtling backwards, landing heavily on the pavement. Silver cracks began to form on her chest, spreading across her body, and moments later her Diemon form disappeared in a shower of fractals. A sheet of paper and a tan D-former flew away from her prone form. J.J. hurried over to the unconscious woman, taking a moment to examine her. She was older than he had expected, a Latina woman in her late twenties with tanned skin and short black hair that fanned out on the ground beneath her. Thankfully, she was still breathing. When he saw she was more or less fine, he let out a sigh of relief, just as the Fool darted down to grab the D-former and the sheet, tearing the latter in half before bouncing back up to his master, giggling as he handed the jewel over.

The Black Seraph quietly examined the gemstone as J.J. stood, gripping his halberd tightly. "She'll live. No thanks to you," he growled.

"I'm pleased," the Seraph replied, inclining his head. "A bit of a shame that she didn't achieve Apotheosis, but there's still plenty of time for others to reach that state, and I'm glad she survived. Even better, you allowed me to see the depth of your abilities."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed the show," J.J. snapped.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the Black Seraph replied, glancing over at his sister. "If anything, I'm disappointed. Your last pet was far stronger than this one. If you're pinning your hopes on him, then your judgment is sorely lacking, sister."

J.J. narrowed his eyes, fury starting to bubble inside him again. "I beg your pardon?" he hissed.

"As you are now, you have no hope of defeating me," the Black Seraph said simply. "Frankly, that battle was pitiful. I watched your body language, and it was clear that you decided from the outset that you couldn't match either my servant or Esmeralda in a straight fight. Instead, you chose to focus on the necklace, deciding that you could salvage victory if you destroyed it. The irony is that if you had chosen to fight Esmeralda yourself, not only would you have prevailed – since you were clearly stronger than her, as you proved when you finally planted your feet and fought her – but you also wouldn't have caused her more grief by destroying her family heirloom. Because you had already decided you couldn't win, you handicapped yourself and made the fight more difficult than necessary."

The Seraph let out a soft chuckle as J.J. simmered, blood running down his hand as he gripped his halberd tightly, his arm shaking slightly. "This battle was a microcosm of how you've been fighting this war, Mr. Wells. You feel that you can't match your opponents in strength, so you're instead focusing on the jewels. You can't do that forever, you know. While you've been successful in defeating most Diemons before they achieved Apotheosis, I can always make more D-formers. So long as I'm around, you'll constantly be fighting Diemons. There will always be people who are dissatisfied with their role in life, and I'm happy to assist them. And eventually, you'll slip up and make a mistake. In time, someone will achieve Apotheosis, and I'll be able to collect their perfected D-former and proceed with my next objectives.

"So long as you're around…." J.J. repeated softly, gripping his halberd a bit more tightly. The Black Seraph paused, raising his chin slightly, appraising him. J.J. suddenly jumped into the air, bringing his halberd up over his head. He heard Gwen scream, "J.J., don't!" while the Fool shifted slightly to intercept him, but the Black Seraph held up his hand, shaking his head at the clown. J.J. focused on the blade of his halberd, infusing it with glowing white energy. He figured that the Black Seraph might favor using shadows, which meant Paladin Class was perfect for this situation. If he could just land one hit, he could put the Seraph's data in his book and figure out-!

The Black Seraph held a pale hand up, and a black, shadowy mass erupted from his palm. J.J. swung his halberd down quickly, trying to cut through it, but his blade seemed to catch on the black energy. He struggled for a moment, but then the sheer force of the energy knocked him back to the ground. He landed heavily on his back and gasped out, his transformation disappearing in a shower of fractals. J.J. stared up at the Black Seraph standing on top of the tower, numb with shock, as the angel shook his head.

"That's not to say you're incorrect in assuming that you're out of your depth," the Black Seraph continued calmly. "You do indeed lack the strength necessary to fight on even ground with your contemporaries. You're clever, but you've had to be to survive this long. I think your choice of a pawn in our little discussion was fitting, you know," he added, chuckling. "That's all you are on this board. And remember – on its own, a pawn can never checkmate the king. In short, I don't consider you a threat. You're a hindrance, an annoyance, but you're not an obstacle that can't be overcome. I've waited over a thousand years to complete my mission and ensure happiness for the world. I can wait a little longer."

To his left, J.J. saw Esmeralda stirring, her hazel eyes slowly opening. When they focused on the Black Seraph, they shot open, and she started to pick herself up, only to slump back to the ground. She hissed in pain, glaring up at the angel. "Marks!" she shouted.

"Excellent! I'm glad to see you're awake," the Black Seraph remarked. There was a flash of black-tinged light, and a moment later Blake Marks stood atop the clock tower, his hands folded in front of him. "My apologies for misleading you, but I feel I owe you an explanation about the incident regarding your family's necklace. The money that was stolen from you was taken by a former employee of mine. When he said he worked for me, he meant that he _used_ to. I had fired him for embezzlement, and when he fled the country, I was sadly unable to locate him. I tried to reimburse those that were stolen from, but unfortunately, not everyone received what they were due. Allow me to make it up for you. I shall cover any medical expenses incurred from this incident, and tomorrow your family shall begin receiving monthly payments for the next five years, until you have received a total of seventy-five thousand dollars."

Esmeralda gaped up at him, stunned. When she closed her mouth, however, she growled, "Why didn't you just do that in the first place?"

"For one, I was unaware that it was a problem. Plus, you were so dead-set on retrieving your necklace yourself that I saw no reason to hinder you. I love seeing people fulfilling their desired roles, after all."

"You destroyed my family!" Esmeralda screamed at him.

"And now I'm trying to repair it. You can take my offer, or refuse it. I would offer you your necklace as compensation, but…." He motioned to the shattered remains sadly.

Esmeralda snarled, looking away, before muttering, "I'd better see all the money."

"You have my word," Blake replied, inclining his head. "If there's nothing else, it's been a long night, and I still have arrangements to make. Good evening."

Blake chuckled as he turned and walked out of sight while J.J. tried to struggle to his elbows. The Fool cackled as well, bouncing out of sight, while the White Seraph flew down, taking a moment to change back into her human form, and then put her soft hands under his back to try and help him up.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Get off of me! Why did you even come?" J.J. snarled at her, waving her off, though his muscles gave out and he slumped onto the asphalt again, gasping in pain.

"I was worried you would be hurt," she replied quietly.

"Oh, yeah, gotta keep an eye on your sacrifice, make sure it doesn't get itself killed before you're ready to draw the knife yourself," J.J. spat at her, struggling again to push himself up.

Gwen flinched, her icy eyes widening. "I was worried _you_ would be hurt," she repeated, emphasizing her point. "Hang on, I'm calling an ambulance."

"Don't bother," J.J. sighed, collapsing back on the ground and panting. "I'm hurt, but I don't need to go to the hospital."

"It's not just for you," Gwen said, looking over at Esmeralda. J.J. grimaced, settling back onto the ground with a soft sigh and covering his eyes with his hand. He could feel Gwen staring down at him for several long moments before she spoke up again.

"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing, focusing on the necklace" she said softly. J.J. opened one eye, frowning at her. "It's very like you to try not to hurt anyone. My brother sees it as a weakness, but I see it as your kindness shining through."

"Spare me," J.J. growled, sighing as he leaned back against the asphalt again with a groan. "He's right. As long as he's out there, this war isn't going to end. And… I'm not strong enough to face him."

"J.J…." Gwen murmured.

"I'm not letting you take my life either," he growled quickly, closing his eyes again and running his fingers through his hair. "But… I really don't know what to do."

He let out a long, slow hiss of frustration, with Gwen continuing to stare down at him sadly as the familiar sounds of sirens approached. The wheels in his mind continued to turn, but they were spinning futilely. This was the first time in a long time that he had felt so helpless, he thought, starting to chuckle bitterly as he covered his eyes with his hand again, trying to shut out the world for a little while.


End file.
